


Our Eyes Shine the Brightest When Our Faces Are Covered in Dirt

by wellthisisprettyrisque (collettephinz)



Category: Blink-182, Fall Out Boy, Halsey (Musician), My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Pierce the Veil, Sleeping With Sirens, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Abuse, Adoption, Angst, Cancer, Cancer recovery, Comfort, Engagement, F/M, Hurt, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Past Underage, Professor - Freeform, Psychology, RAY TORO DOES NOT DIE, References to Suicide Attempt, Soulmates, Soulmates AU, University, Wedding, canon bands, now that that's out the way, references to self harm, so much fucking angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-06-08 01:35:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 104,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6833443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collettephinz/pseuds/wellthisisprettyrisque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Life isn't a Disney Movie, and the world isn't that generous.</p><p>Sometimes, a story ends with an unsatisfying fade to black, and that's all you have."</p><p>Ryan struggles to teach his students this after taking a university teaching job to distract himself from his absent soulmate and his dying friend at home. He begins wonders if the ring on his finger means anything at all to Brendon.</p><p> </p><p>(Sequel to <a>"Two Vatos Locos Full of Carnalismo and Inamoratos"</a>)<br/>((updated weekly (on Wednesday)))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If I Didn’t Know Any Better, I’d Think He Was Screaming

**Author's Note:**

> loveliest beta: cemeterydrivethru
> 
> to be clear, i have no fucking idea how long this will be. but i definitely know what's going to happen.

A lot of people tended to believe that finding your soulmate was the end game of all end games, the ultimate happy ending, and for a while, Ryan would’ve agreed with them. Everyone he knew was generally happy. The ring rested comfortably on Ryan’s finger, like it belonged there, and Ryan was happy. Brendon was sleeping well and hardly moved during the night, hit the mattress and sawed logs like a fucking drugged dog. Ryan went to sleep beside Brendon every night and woke up next to him every day, even on the tours they’d done back when everything had been sunshine and dumb ideas and reckless love making in the tiny venue bathrooms. Brendon liked being loud, Ryan liked listening— they were perfect and Brendon was perfect. and shit was just… it was perfect.

And perfect things were perfectly imperfect and always disrupted the rainbows with lightning.

The band had been good. So very, very good. They’d toured in a van, never made it to a bus, but Ryan hadn’t minded. He liked being close to Mikey and Josh and Brendon and going across the country. They’d avoided Utah with a vehemence and Brendon sang even when he wasn't supposed to. Josh got Tyler backstage for free when they were in Chicago, and Ryan got to see the ball drop in New York not long after he got engaged to Brendon. The country he’d called home suddenly felt more familiar than it ever had. Josh would sometimes throw food at Ryan from across the van when it was Mikey’s turn to drive and Brendon had Ryan preoccupied in the back. Ryan once walked in on Josh trying to have phone sex with Halsey, and Mikey had so many wet dreams that it was fucking ridiculous. Ryan wanted to get him checked out for a sex addiction, because it was ridiculous.

The road was long and erratic and Brendon got to taste donuts at the top of one of the highest mountains in the continental U-S. Josh danced with some hitchhikers in Oregon, and Mikey got flashed by a fifty year old woman who was trying to get him to help her cheat on her husband. Ryan bought an amazing quilt from a woman in a farmers market in Washington, and Pete joined them for half the leg of the tour and treated them to bagels in Colorado.

The music was good and Ryan believed in all of them. He believed in the dreams they had and the hope they cradled to their chests like banners for a cause, crests of a name, posters of a protest. Ryan believed they could change words with the words and notes and Brendon’s voice. They’d already changed their own lives, and some of their lives were pretty fucking bad for a while. Ryan was confident they could help people who were worse off if they tried hard enough. The math just said so.

Pete took advantage of the long nights of driving to talk to Ryan about why he thought religion existed and how the world got so muddled up by social constructs of existence. Ryan enjoyed those nights the most, because Brendon would always be curled on his stomach, fast asleep as Pete talked, Josh would be listening from the seat over, and sometimes Mikey would have Gerard on FaceTime as he drove. Mikey bought a book of French poetry in a ghost town in Arizona, someplace called Jerome, and he’d read it aloud sometimes if Josh couldn’t fall asleep.

They were a family. They were happy. The wedding didn’t happen and the ring sat contentedly on Ryan’s finger for two years and five tours, three of them national, giving him a nice tan line and a calm sense of complacency.

But god, Ray…

_“The Poet’s don’t like me,” Brendon told Josh with a pouted as he scrambled to Josh’s side on the couch in the middle of Wichita, Kansas while Ryan and Mikey sat on the floor and tried to figure out how to make this song not sound like it was written by a thirteen year old. “One day, they’ll vote to kill me. Like that Greek one who didn’t love his family.”_

_“No idea who that was, but he sounds like an ass,” Josh chuckled._

_“Ryan!” Brendon whined, reverting to the three year old version of himself that Ryan had never known. “Pay attention to me!”_

_“They’re working, B.” Josh reached into his bag and pulled out a hairbrush. “God, we need to cut your hair. Remind me to make Mikey cut your hair.”_

_“That ain’t my job,” Mikey mumbled from around a pencil that was hanging between his teeth._

_“Anymore,” Josh added cheekily._

_“I’ll pull out your fingernails,” Mikey shot back. “One by one. No fucking remorse.”_

_“Not even if I do that thing with my lip and make myself look really sad?” Josh did the thing he was talking about— he jut out his lower lip into a huge pout and widened his eyes like a puppy’s, some sort of demented golden retriever. Ryan looked over without meaning to and bark out a laugh that was more shock than anything. Mikey scrunched his nose up and did his very best to look disgusted. “Not working?” Josh asked, quickly schooling his features. “I get it. The Dun isn’t for everyone. It’s totally worked on Ryan, though.”_

_“Fuck you.” Ryan almost winced at how lame his jab was. Josh laughed at him and that was enough to soothe the mild shame Ryan felt for being mediocre._

_“Been there, done that,” Josh retorted with a wink and a sly grin. “And baby? I’d go there again.”_

_Brendon smacked Josh’s knee, glaring at him. “Not funny.”_

_Josh laughed. “It’s a little funny.”_

_Brendon shook his head stiffly and crossed his arms over his chest. Ryan made a mental note to check for any Redbull cans in Brendon’s bag after this. Just to make sure._

_Mikey’s phone went off, and at first, Mikey acted like he wasn’t going to take it. He looked to the screen, saw Gee’s name flashing, groaned, and went back to his notebook. As it continued to ring, though, Ryan nudged the phone closer to Mikey. “Could be important,” he gave as explanation. Mikey sighed heavily, then answered._

_Moments later, the phone dropped from Mikey’s hand like he’d been shocked._

A brain tumor. 

How does a fucking brain tumor come out of nowhere and take Ray down like a projectile? Ray Toro was an angel with the body of a giant and the hair of a deep sea creature or something. Ryan physically couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that the best people had to go through the worst shit, even though it was a concept that he was intimately familiar with. It was different when it was Ray, Ray was different. Ray was the epitome of good and kind and pure and just all around awesome. Ray had been trying to become a fucking detective, for god’s sake, had been shadowing detectives for the learning process. Anyone else could’ve gotten the tumor, and Ryan could have found some sick way to justify it to himself to help retain some sense of order in the world. But no. It had to be Ray.

Ray who was walking through the halls to hand his boss the profile of the latest missing kid. Who’d just spent hours interviewing a father, trying to figure out where his missing child had gone. Ray, who’d dropped to the floor, spasming, blood pouring from his nose out of nowhere. He’d been complaining of headaches, but Ryan had had no idea tumors could become violent this quickly. He’d thought they would’ve been more signs. Some sort of warning. Anything. Something to have altered them to the cancer growing in Ray’s head.

Mikey was broken. Utterly destroyed. They’d turned the van around immediately and headed home, alerting their loyal and healthily sized fanbase to the medical emergency and receiving unanimous support. At first, Ryan and thought it would be a quick fix, that they’d get some brain scans, get some surgery, get whatever needed to be done, and then all would be well. Ryan estimated a year, maybe a year and a half, tops.

But two years later, the band wasn’t back, and Ray was losing his body weight and his glorious hair and his luster and Mikey was losing his sanity. The light in his eyes was frantic and scared every time Ray woke up and groaned in pain. It was horrifying and sobering, a testament to the reality of mortality. It was William and Gabe all over again.

“What do I do?” Mikey asked Ryan every night, begging for a reason to keep fighting. “What do I do?” Ryan never had answers for him.

“I can’t survive this much longer,” Mikey would confess in broken whispers that tore Ryan’s heart to shreds.

“You have to,” he would tell Mikey. And Mikey wouldn’t respond.

After awhile, with nothing to keep the band going, Ryan and Josh talked about ending it. It felt wrong to keep Mikey worried about something that wouldn't happen without Ray being back to perfect health again. Josh and Ryan wanted to call the band off indefinitely 

Brendon didn’t like that.

. . .

“I don’t fucking want to lose the band!” Brendon protested passionately. “I can’t lose that on top of everything! Ray’s dying, and Gerard’s hardly ever home— this band is all I’ve ever had in terms of making any sort of name for myself. I don’t want to lose it!”

“Ray is really sick,” Ryan said patiently, knowing Brendon didn’t mean to offend. “He’s going through some really difficult stuff right now, and so is Mikey. We can’t just tell he fans the band is on hiatus for another random amount of time, if we have any fans left at all. We’ve got to end it.”

“I’m not ending it,” Brendon insisted, becoming angry. “You can leave, but I’ll keep going. I’ll find new people to play. I’ll keep going a-and I won’t look back!”

“You’re not serious,” Josh said incredulously. Ryan couldn’t believe it either. He’d known that the band meant a lot to Brendon— a lot more than it probably meant to the rest of them— but he’d hoped that Brendon would understand how delicate this whole situation was. Mikey didn’t deserve to be torn away from his slowly expiring soulmate, and whatever fans they had didn’t deserve to be strung along. Ryan knew they wouldn't be back in the game for a long time. He couldn’t give people false hope. 

“Ray’s not gonna die,” Brendon said. “So I’m not gonna end the band.”

“I can’t keep doing this band without Mikey,” Ryan confessed, a broken edge to his voice. “So, I’ll be stopping.” He wondered if that would make Brendon change his mind. If Brendon was loyal to him in any way. If Brendon kept going without them, then that would mean Brendon would probably go on tour. Pete was understanding, but he’d push any band that he thought was worth the effort. Pete would upthrust the volume on Brendon’s career and get him somewhere worthwhile. Hell, Brendon might even be better on his own. That would be the clincher.

“I’m gonna keep going,” Brendon repeated, standing firm and breaking Ryan’s heart as he did. “I’m gonna make a name for Panic! with or without you.”

. . .

The worst part was that Ryan had been spending months and months encouraging Brendon to stand up for himself, so this was entirely Ryan’s fault. Ryan had encouraged this sort of rebellion that was outwardly a positive thing! He’d spent so fucking long trying to get Brendon to just go after the things he wanted and say “fuck all” to anything and anyone else that wanted to get in his way, but what the fuck? Ryan had never intended for Brendon to do this. 

He felt like a parent and a lover at the same time, and he was fucking up every single step of both roles.

They talked to Mikey, and Mikey was infinitely relieved, even though he didn’t know the bad news until a moment later. Ryan wasn’t sure if Mikey was too tired to feel as betrayed as Ryan and Josh felt, or he had just always suspected Brendon to be that type of person all along. Either way, Mikey took the news with much more apathy than Ryan had expected, and it angered him. He wanted validation for his feelings of complete betrayal. So did Josh, but Josh didn’t take it as hard as him. It was even worse when Pete took all of this in stride and got Brendon all the promotional adverts he could need and even brought in two new band members to replace them. Dallon Weekes and Kenneth Harris. Dallon was tall and reminded Ryan way too much of his father, while Kenneth was a firecracker that seemed eager to get Brendon into any type of trouble he could think of. Brendon, naturally, adored them.

“The tour’s just for a few months,” Brendon said the first time. Ryan knew the short tours wouldn’t last long. He knew their fanbase was entirely dedicated to Brendon’s voice. Pete had the rights to all the music because Ryan, in a grand attempt to beg Brendon to reconsider, had handed it all over. So Brendon could take the music and fucking go with it, not missing a step. It wasn’t like Ryan had a huge singing part, and Dallon was nearly as good as Mikey with the bass. Pete never settled on a drummer to replace Jos, which was pretty vindicating. No one could ever come close to Josh. Pete also got Brendon a bodyguard, just to alleviate Ryan’s concerns.

But Ryan felt offended because Pete replaced him too quickly, and Brendon seemed all to eager to leave Ryan again, especially since Ryan was still reeling from having him back. It was hard to ignore nearly seven years of not having someone at your side when they should be. It took longer than three years to cope. Ryan knew that kind of emotional stress would drain in for years and years, and it would probably even longer until he had completely recuperated. Brendon leaving to tour and the dreams starting again? That wasn’t helping.

. . .

“I’ll call you every night,” Brendon promised. “When I don’t have a show, that is. I don’t want to disturb you.” He went up on his toes to kiss Ryan’s cheek, then pulled away, obviously eager to leave, but Ryan wrapped his arms around Brendon’s waist to keep him there. HIs entire body, his fucking soul was crying out for Brendon to stay. He held Brendon there, pressed their chests together, and didn’t let go of him for much longer than Brendon would have liked, but Ryan wasn’t remorseful. Brendon was going to be leaving for months. He had every right to hold on as long as he needed to come to terms with this.

“You’ll be safe, right?” Ryan asked, voice cracking. “You swear you’ll be safe?”

“I’ll be fine, Ry,” Brendon told him with a wide smile. Brendon was just so excited for this, and Ryan couldn’t be grudge him. He wished he could be out there with Brendon, preforming again, but he knew his heart wouldn’t be into it, not without Mikey, and not without the guilt keeping him up at night. “I’ll see you in my dreams,” Brendon said with a cheeky grin and a cheesy wink that he’d learned from Josh. Ryan’s heart ached like an open wound and he squeezed Brendon even tighter. 

“I love you,” he said, trying to keep from shaking. That would be entirely too pathetic. “I love you so much. I know you’re gonna do amazing things and I’m so sorry I can’t be out there with you.” He kissed Brendon’s cheek again. “I love you very much and wish you the best out there. I-I’ve always know that you’re gonna do great things and make some amazing music.”

“Do it all because of you,” Brendon hummed, rubbing Ryan’s back. “Really, Ry— I wouldn’t be here to do any of this if it weren’t for you and everything you did for me. I’m so grateful to you and I always will be. And I love you very much.”

Ryan breathed shakily and pressed his nose into the small dip behind Brendon’s hears that led into his skull. Brendon always forgot to wash behind his ears, so this little spot smelled the most like home, and Ryan would go to the grave believing he was a creep for loving this spot of Brendon almost as much as he loved the spot between Brendon’s thighs.

“You’ll always make the best decisions, right?” Ryan asked. “Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t do those crazy drugs, they tear lives apart. Don’t hurt people that don’t deserve it, and especially don’t hurt yourself. You’re important to a lot of people.”

“I won’t be gone long,” Brendon laughed. “You’re acting like I’m going off to war! Like I’ll never come back.”

Ryan didn’t want to mention how many nightmares he’d had of that happening.

“I gotta go, Ry,” Brendon said. “I love you!” He forced himself from Ryan’s arms and waved as he left, heading to the black sedan that Zack was in. “I’ll send you pictures! Or you can just look up pictures people took! I’m sure there will be plenty of them!” Brendon’s calm arrogance was something that never failed to make Ryan smile. Brendon blew him and kiss, then climbed into the car and drive away from Ryan’s life for an indeterminable amount of time.

. . .

The real question was what Ryan was supposed to do with Brendon gone and the band being over for him. Ryan never did handle complacency well. Even when he’d felt helpless to get Brendon back, he’d had school. He’d always had a major goal in mind, or smaller goals that were easier to attain. Ryan had always been working towards something back then. He’d always had a purpose. Now, without the band, he felt like a shell; someone empty and cathartic, like a meat suit with no soul and no purpose. It made him feel like a waste of space, and he couldn’t handle that.

There weren’t a lot of options for him, either. He refused to become a psychologist because he believed that he was the wrong person to listen to peoples problems. He had this bad habit of believing in and supporting people who didn’t deserve it. He would also, probably, make them feel ignored or neglected because he was physically and emotionally unable to handle all of these things at once. Ryan took on peoples’ problems like they were his own if he liked them enough. He couldn’t handle that with anyone else, could barely handle it with the people in his life now. Mikey was falling apart and Ryan was dangerously close to falling with him. The chemotherapy wasn’t very effective against the Anaplastic Astrocytoma that was threatening Ray’s life. It was horrifying to watch Ray decay before their eyes, just as bad as watching Mikey decay with him. And Ryan couldn’t help anyone.

He was frustrated with himself and how useless those years of education had been and how he could only sit idly by and do fuck all. Gerard and Ryan bent over backwards to help Ray and Mikey, but Gerard had to get back to work eventually and keep working on Umbrella Academy and Killjoys and Marvel was interested in him for doing work with a female Spiderman series. Frank was actually going to a community college to study random things to try and saying he was finding a purpose, but Ryan knew that it was because Frank was only doing it to distract himself. Ryan was sure Josh was in the same boat as him when it came to doing something with his life. Halsey was very supportive of Josh picking up an odd job at a record store, and so was Ryan. But everyone was searching for a purpose in all the right places or had already found one, yet Ryan had no clue where to begin.

Until he saw this episode of that dumb show about a guy looking for a girl with a yellow umbrella and the main guy becomes a college professor when his architect job doesn’t work out, and that’s it.

He looked into it. You didn’t need a teacher’s degree to become a professor. He even knew how to spell the title, unlike that fucking idiot on the show. He had connections, especially since Travis was a leading scientific mind in soulmate dream research at Stanford. He could definitely defend Ryan’s ability. Ryan had been speaking with him quite a bit ever since Ray had started radiation treatments, had asked about the soulmate connection, what the radiation would do to the bond, if anything at all. He’d had endless questions about the side effects, and Travis had been the only person who seemed capable of answering these questions. Travis could help him find some sort of work at a school or somewhere, because that was the only place that made sense to Ryan. He wasn’t a teacher, but he definitely knew his stuff.

. . .

“You wanna do what?” Travis asked over wine and cheese at some weird University wine bar that Travis had chosen because he liked the name. Ryan had driven the five hours to the city of Palo Alto because he wanted to talk to Travis about this in person, and he had nothing but time on his hands. The drive wasn’t awful, save the mind numbing traffic, and Ryan had gotten to listen to some of the new stuff on the radio. Even if it was fucking horrible, at least Ryan’s brain was stimulated by the hatred of modern music. “You wanna become a teacher?”

“I’d prefer to work with actual adults,” Ryan said. “At least in that age. New adults.”

“College,” Travis supplied. “University. You wanna become an actual professor.”

“I’m already a doctor,” Ryan pointed out with a shrug. “I had professors who had nothing but that, and they taught me more than professors with legitimate education degrees. I know I’m good with words when it comes to talking about the things I know. Psychology, that is. I’m good at that. I can become a psychology professor and I’ll be nice to the kids. With Brendon being on tour and the family…” He sighed and shook his head. “This thing with Ray… it’s tearing us apart at the seams. Not, like, the relationships. But we’re all looking for something to distract ourselves. And I’m… I’m the only one who can’t go back to school. And can’t find real work. I need something, Travis. And I know I can do this because I have to do this.”

“You don’t think Brendon’s gonna come back?”

“Do you?” Ryan smiled bitterly. “He’s amazing, Travis. You haven’t heard him sing. He’s gonna make it big and he’s gonna make it big, fast. Faster than Fall Out Boy, and I can’t explain it, but I know it’s gonna happen. Brendon’s electric and light and passion. He loves what he does and loves being onstage ad loves the attention, meaning he’s gonna do a hell of a lot to keep himself under the spotlight. He’ll say whatever they want in interviews, do whatever they want him to do onstage, sing what they want him to sing, just… Brendon’s gonna be toxic in the best way. And I can’t ask him to slow down, so I won’t. He’ll be going from tour to tour to the studio to another tour. Interviews and festivals and events and, and…”

“You gonna be okay?” Travis asked after Ryan had trailed off long enough to suggest that he wouldn’t be continuing.

“Do you think we’ll be back in the same room?” Ryan asked. Brendon had only been gone for three days. It took soulmates a week or two of prolonged separation to start having the dreams again. “In the dreams. I don’t know if being back in that fucking hell would be good for him while I can’t be there to help him.”

“Your concern for him is admirable, but you’ve got to let him grow up on his own,” Travis advised with a grimace. “Cause, Ry? He’s gonna be on his own for quite a bit now. Who’re his bandmates? Didn’t Pete choose them? I don’t know if this is a good idea, Ryan. I know that you’re confident in your degree and you need something to do, but this is a lot of responsibility and I’m not sure you’re prepared for it.”

“Is any teacher ever prepared?” Ryan asked. “I wouldn’t know of any that were. None of my teachers talked about being perfectly prepared, but all of them talked about teaching being something they didn’t expect. You don’t know that any of them knew better, and I certainly don’t know better.”

“You’re a bleeding heart, Ryan, whether you like it or not.”

“Which is why I want to work at a university,” Ryan explained. “The classes will be big enough for me to detach myself from most of them. I know that’s cold, but I need to do something, and this seems like the best option. I can’t be a therapist. I can’t lawfully provide complex prescriptions in this state, so a psychiatrist wouldn’t work. I’d need a second degree for that sort of power. And I don’t want to be an office goon in a cubicle. I don’t want to work in food or retail. I don’t want… I just need this, okay? Is that okay?”

“It’s fine, Ryan,” Travis snorted. “So long as you understand what you’re getting into, to enough of an extent.” Travis ate a huge chunk of cheese, and Ryan suddenly remembered where they were. He wondered how many serious conversations happened here per day. “I can definitely get you a job somewhere in California. That’s how fucking influential I am. You should repay me. Movie deal status.” Travis smirked and waggled his brow and Ryan rolled his eyes.

“Was that you asking me to suck your dick?” Ryan asked, already knowing the answer. “I’m not sucking your dick, Travis. In no way and no situation will I ever suck your dick.”

“What about one of those “fuck or die” situations I read about in Kirk-slash-Spock fanfiction?” Travis proposed. “If someone was threatening to kill me unless you sucked my dick, would you do that for me? Would you do me that solid? I would totally return the favor someday.”

“You are the least straight heterosexual I’ve ever met,” Ryan deadpanned.

“I would suck your cock like a goddamn queen with an oral fixation,” Travis hummed, going for what Ryan realized was his third glass of a red blend. Ryan was met with a surge of vindication for how bad Travis’s hangover would be tomorrow. It was definitely one of the most satisfying thoughts ever. “Wasn’t it just Freud’s birthday?”

“I’ve had this conversation before,” Ryan groaned. “So I’ll just say this— Fuck Freud and is extremely unintelligent theories. All he did was help female sexuality. The rest was fucking useless and I will never, ever respect that asshole as any sort of legitimate source for any sort of true psychological fact.”

“Someone’s bitter,” Travis said. “Must be that wine you’re drinking.”

Ryan had half a mind to douse Travis’s face with said wine. 

“Do you really want me to do you some sort of favor in return for helping me out?” Ryan asked tiredly. He wasn’t completely against doing so if Travis really wanted him to, as long as it wasn’t sucking Travis’s fucking dick. Ryan was pretty damn monogamous. 

“Dude, I don’t give a shit,” Travis chuckled. “You’re going through enough as it is, and it’s not like it’s a lot of skin off my back.” Travis waved for his fourth glass of wine, whereupon Ryan motioned for the waitress not to do so when Travis wasn’t looking. Ryan was already sure that he was going to have to give Travis a ride home already. “It’s not like you’re going for tenure or anything, and universities always like to have psychology professors since they require that course for most graduating degrees. I can get you something near where you live. I’ve been a guest speaker at most major universities on the West coast. They all love me.” Travis grinned toothily. “You should love me too.”

“Of course, Travis.”

“Fucking love me, Ryan.”

Ryan smiled patiently. “Of course.”

. . .

Sometimes, when Frank was studying late into the night and away from home, Gerard would slip into Ryan’s room and feed himself graham crackers because he couldn’t sleep in an empty bed. Neither could Ryan, really, so he appreciated the company, and he loved having someone to watch Daredevil with.

“Marvel wants me with them once I’m done with Spiderwoman, but so does DC,” Gerard said through all the cinnamon-y goodness stuffed into his cheeks. “I could totally choose either. It’s like having two really sexy people fighting over you. Like Twilight.”

“How dare you bring that half assed excuse for creativity into my room,” Ryan mumbled, warm and sleepy. Gerard had gained a little weight since Frank started getting busier, and Ryan kinda loved it. Gerard’s sides were squishy and nice and his thighs were slung over Ryan’s legs, and Gerard was just so much more comfortable to cuddle. He knew Gerard would soon look in the mirror and hate his reflection and resolve to change it, so Ryan was going to enjoy this comfiness for as long as he could. He wasn’t going to say anything because he didn’t see anything wrong with putting on a little weight. 

“You should go with whoever gives you the bigger role,” Ryan told him. “Like, if they hand you over a chance to write for Batman versus someone, like, uh… Like X-men, fucking, fucking go with Batman, Gee. Write for Batman.”

“I’m so sleepy, Ryan,” Gerard murmured. “Isn’t it scary that this is what death feels like too? Falling asleep. We relish a feeling that is a darker analogy for death…”

“Gee?” Ryan called out drowsily. “I’m way too tired for you to do this right now.”

“I’m not tired enough,” Gerard sighed. “Frankie’s gone. My husband’s gone.” Gerard groaned and stretched out over Ryan’s lap like a large, demented cat that had the sex drive of a fucking incubus. Ryan wondered if Frank and Gerard ever got weird with the role play. He wondered if they even had much of a sex drive with the stress they were under. Ryan opened his mouth to ask, but he heard something that sounded like Mikey crying down the hall, and wished to god that he was good enough at anything to distract the man. 

“My brother’s dying too,” Gerard whispered. “And I can’t save him.”

Ryan knew none of them could.

. . .

“You’ve got a job,” Travis said before Ryan could even say hello. “UCLA. The one with the transgender bathrooms? You’re gonna be an Abnormal Psychology professor there, but you gotta do me and the scientific community a favor while doing that.”

“And what would that favor be?” Ryan asked carefully, the phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear as he did the dishes.

“So, I know you probably didn’t know this, but you’re kinda famous.”

Ryan frowned. He did know he was kinda famous. He’d been in a nationally semi-popular band that did several very successful tours in pretty well sized venues. He had plenty of social media followers and a couple Tumblrs dedicated to him. “I knew that.”

“Not this kind of famous.”   
Ryan groaned and fought the urge to hang his head, because that would cause his phone to fall into the sink. “God, Travis— what have you done?”

“You do realize how fucking significant your relationship with Brendon was right?” Travis sounded pretty done with Ryan’s bullshit. Ryan knew the feeling. “The things you told me about your relationship helped me understand the complexity involved in dreaming ability. You had physical wounds appear on you that were inflicted during a dream, Ryan. That’s never happened before. Not in any textbook or study or anything. I’d love to have Brendon and you as a pair, but I am more than happy to have you.”

“So what do you want?” Ryan asked cautiously. 

“You,” Travis replied easily. “A case study. I get to ask you questions, scan your head, see if we can monitor your brain while you’re dreaming with Brendon. Just your consent to run some tests and interviews and shit. I won’t, like, plug you with gamma rays or anything. Just gonna figure out what’s up with that crazy brain of yours. You get paid for teaching and for participating in the study.”

Ryan gnawed on his lower lip, then spat wildly when he accidentally put a spoon under the faucet stream and got doused with water and soap all over his body and face. “Oh, what the fuck?!” he shrieked, stumbling away from the sink and dropping his phone into the water.

Ryan stared at the soapsud filled sink and knew his phone was in there, dying slowly. He wondered if it sounded like someone drowning on Travis’s end. 

“Fuck this shit.”

. . .

Ryan accepted Travis’s terms on Ray’s phone after borrowing it. He sat next to Ray on the sofa, who was watching TV lethargically, and Ryan wished he could suck the radiation from Ray’s body and take it into his own, if only temporarily, to give him at least a moment of lucidity. Josh walked past them four times for “no reason” in the duration of Ryan’s seven minute phone conversation, and again, Ryan’s heart went out to him. Ryan ended up wrapping Ray up in his arms once he was done with the phone, forgoing his daily chores (that he gave himself) in return of holding Ray and warming him up. The radiation treatments made it really difficult for Ray’s body to regulate his temperature on its own, and everyone did their part in warming him up whenever they had the chance. It was funny that their strong, largest, most intimidating member of the family was the one who needed to be held the most. It wasn’t funny in a “ha-ha” way, though. More like, funny in a way that made Ryan want to throw up and break a window.

“Feels nice,” Ray mumbled, wrapped up in a blanket and lying on Ryan’s chest.

“It is,” Ryan agreed softly.

“Has Brendon called you since the tour started?”

Ryan didn’t want to answer that.

“I think it’s a shame,” Ray mumbled. “That out of everyone here, you’re the one to be left behind again.”

“It’s not like that,” Ryan tried to argue. “He’s just busy. You know from Mikey how busy touring can be. He’s just super swamped with all this work and doesn’t have the time right now, it’s totally okay.”

“It’s totally not okay,” Josh said as he entered the room again with the nonchalance of a fucking asshole. Ryan narrowed his eyes at Josh, wishing at least someone would let him live in that famous river of Egypt. Ryan wanted nothing more than to just believe that Brendon was honestly busy. He remember how hectic that life was. He remembered how little time you would have to just sit down and do something for yourself. It made perfect sense that Brendon couldn’t get to the phone, regardless of the fact that he was a week into the tour and had a hotel night already. Brendon could’ve had time for at least a five minute conversation, but Ryan was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“He’s living it up and being a kid,” he told Josh, defending Brendon since that was his purpose— always look out for your soulmate solely because they were your soulmate. “He’ll call me when he has time.”

“No, he’ll call you whenever he gets his head out of his ass and realizes that drugs and money are nothing compared to you,” Josh corrected, drinking a beer. “Ashley’s coming over soon. She has some new incense that she thinks will really help your headaches, Ray. Sound okay?”

Ray nodded. He was desperate for anything to relieve the pain in his head. Ryan usually give him gentle massages at the temples and forehead. That was all Ryan was good for. Ryan looked up when he heard footsteps approaching and saw Mikey stop short in his tracks and sigh raggedly in relief once he saw Ray. Mikey strode into the room and sat on the floor beside the couch, instantly knotting his and Ray’s fingers together. “Got up and saw you weren’t there.” Mikey spoke softly, like he was worried about scaring Ray. “Got pretty worried there.”

Ray managed a smiled and weakly squeezed Mikey’s hand. “Sorry. I’m here. Ryan needed to borrow my phone and now he’s warming me up.”

Mikey snorted. “Ryan can’t warm anyone. He’s been dead for years.”

“Dead on the inside,” Ryan agreed with a sagely nod. Mikey looked between Ray and Ryan before carefully crawling onto the sofa and squeezing against Ray’s side. Ryan wedged his leg out to give Mikey some sort of leverage to keep himself on the couch. Mikey reached for the remote that was behind him and started to change channels on the TV. Josh sat on the floor and watched with them.

“I wanna watch a romance,” Ray said.

“Deadpool it is,” Mikey giggled.

. . .

Ryan started work prep very quickly, a full four weeks before classes actually started so he could work with another teacher on a lesson plan sort of thing. Ryan had been making PowerPoints and shit once he knew the job was his, but he had no idea what to expect, and Travis had hand selected one of his colleagues who taught Biology at UCLA and who Travis thought would be perfect to help Ryan along.

“Jon Walker,” the man introduced, a man with his hair wispy and in the air with a tired smile and huge bags under his eyes. “I teach upper Biology and Chemistry for freshman. Travis and I did a couple projects together in our Analytics and Theories course back in Chicago. It’s nice to meet you.” He was wearing flip flops.

“How old are you?” Ryan blurted out, rude as fucking ever, because this kid seemed way too young. Luckily, Jon laughed and took the question in stride.

“I get asked that a lot,” he explained, still smiling like he was half dead. “I’m twenty five.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes and did a lot of math that didn’t add up.

“I graduated high school at fifteen,” Jon hummed. “Graduated with my doctorate in the regular eight years, but with two doctoral degrees, got my job here that same year. I don’t like to brag and shit, I really don’t, but Mensa has been getting on my ass to take their test for years now.”

“How’d you get that smart?” Ryan asked with the comparative intelligence of a dodo bird— extinct and mocked. 

“I was born that way,” Jon replied. “IQ over a hundred thirty.”

“Jesus,” Ryan breathed, eyes wide.

“Aren’t you the same?” Jon queried. “You graduated nearly two years early, right? Travis always talks about you like you’re some kind of wunderkind. A theoretical savior, almost. He’s fucking crazy with how he goes on about your mind.”

Ryan grimaced and shook his head. “No, I, uh… I’m not special. Not in a good way.”

Jon frowned but didn’t press. “Well, want the tour or wanna just dive into it? I’m sure you’ve got _some_ material you can teach, right? The board’s gonna go easy on you this first semester. They’re really just interested in getting their name into Travis’s research. I’m basically in charge of you, per Travis’s request.”

“Uh, thanks,” Ryan said hesitantly. He wasn’t sure if Jon was actually someone he could trust or not. It wasn’t like this being a professor was his dream job and the only future he had— Ryan didn’t care if he lost this job or not. But honestly? Ryan still had dependency issues. And by that, he meant he didn’t like to depend on anyone. He wasn’t sure he could rely on Jon at all.

“That’s totally not an answer to my question,” Jon chuckled, shaking his head. “How about I show you where the vending machines are first— they’ll basically be your lifeblood between classes. You’ve got four classes every day, each of them being smaller lectures that last an hour and fifteen minutes. Except on Fridays. You’ve got two classes on Fridays, same length.”

“How do you know this?”

“Same schedule as mine,” Jon replied. “Now, I’ll be in the next building, okay? We’re fucking lucky that social sciences is seen as appropriate to be next to the Bio sciences and stuff. We can have lunch together and shoot the gun.”

Ryan’s brow knit together. He’d never heard that idiom before.

“I think you’ll like it here,” Jon continued, apparently unfazed by the phrase he’d fabricated. “It’ll be cool to have someone closer to my age to talk to. You and I are the youngest people here, with at least ten years on you. I’ve finally got a friend my age! How awesome is that?”

Ryan smiled wryly, not sure at all what to make of the other man. But he seemed friendly, and Ryan was also a little tired himself.

“I’d love to see those vending machines,” he said lamely, because he couldn’t think of anything else. He was going to stick his neck out there, outside of his cozy little family circle, and see if he could actually make friends like a well-adjusted adult. Adults made friends and did friendly things. Ryan could do this. 

“They’ve got fucking Oreos!” Jon exclaimed,sounding as excited as Ryan didn’t feel. But Ryan still smiled and followed Jon past all the classrooms and did his best to remain optimistic.

When he reached into his back pocket for his wallet to buy a bag of Doritos, Ryan felt his phone and was reminded of the fact that Brendon still hadn’t bothered to call after three weeks of his tour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> www.wellthisisprettyrisque.tumblr.com


	2. Bullet Bruised and Begging for Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan starts classes, Halsey gets mad, and Brendon has issues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "every time i see a pic of bren on tumblr i just get irrationally mad now thanks" 
> 
> \-- my loveliest beta: cemeterydrivethru, 2016

“You start classes tomorrow?” Frank asked, on one of the rare nights that he was home. He was leaning over the stove, deep frying some sort of food, and Ryan was pretty sure that wasn’t very vegetarian-like. Didn’t things get deep fried in meat oil? Or was it a different type of oil? Wait, since when did they have deep fryer?

“I’m teaching Abnormal Psychology,” Ryan said, something he’d been thinking constantly. He was drowning out the little voices saying that Brendon had forgotten him completely. A month into the tour, and Ryan was still alone. The dreams hadn’t even started up. Travis thought that was weird and wanted to get Ryan an MRI as soon as possible, but Ryan was busy learning the ways of being a professor with Jon. They had an actual MRI and CT scan scheduled for a week, anyways, so Travis could wait. Ryan hated those machines. He especially hated the shit he was told he had to drink beforehand. “I’m kinda freaked out?” He posed that as a question because he wasn’t sure if his anxiety was sound or not.

“Dude, I’d be fucking pissing my pants,” Frank said as he stirred the boiling pot. Ryan was almost positive that Frank was doing this wrong. He wondered who had bought the deep fryer and just fucking why. No one here was good enough at cooking to be able to manage this high end cooking technology. Ryan could make pancakes and sometimes cake and that was really it. Their real cook was out of commission. “God, Ryan, you teaching kids? Do you even have the patience for that? You’re gonna get some smart kids, granted, but most of them will frustrate you because they won’t understand what you already do.”

“I’ll be fine,” Ryan said, waving off Frank’s concern with as much nonchalance as he could manage while not looking like he was lying through his hands. “I can handle this. I’ve got Jon to help me out, and Mikey’s pretty excited, too. He’s gonna help me write up activities and make my presentation not look so boring.”

“That’s good,” Frank said. “Giving Mikey something to do. Ray can help him, too. A good distraction.”  “Is that all our lives are right now?” Ryan asked sadly. “Just moving from distraction to distraction? Trying to pretend everything’s okay even when it isn’t? We’re ignoring the problems, not solving them.” Ryan watched Frank for a long moment. “… Gerard misses you. He misses his husband.”

“He’s fine,” Frank replied stiffly.

“He’s not fine,” Ryan said, still watching him. Frank dropped pieces of bread into the fryer. “What the hell are you making?”

“I don’t know,” Frank admitted. “I’m just throwing shit in here. Got this thing for half off in an infomercial. They said I can send it back in thirty days if I don’t like it, so who cares. I bought one of those cool banana cutters too.”

Ryan kept watching him. “… What’s it like being married?” he asked as his engagement ring burned his skin.

“It’s violent sex that results knocking the popcorn bowl off the bed with the Office playing in the background,” Fran replied readily, like he’d been waiting to be asked that for ages, like he’d had that answer written on paper since Gerard fucked up his proposal and nearly killed Frank with the wedding ring. Ryan wondered what Frank thought about his marriage now. He was jealous, though. He was so fucking jealous of Frank and Gerard. And Ray and Mikey. And anyone who was lucky enough to be married to their lover. Ryan felt the ache of Brendon’s absence like a knife being wedged into his chest cavity. He missed Brendon. He missed him so fucking much.

“You’re wishing you were married,” Frank stated, showing a rare moment of observational skill. Ryan was loathed to let Frank know that he was right. He didn’t want to admit to Frank being right, because then he would have to say Brendon had forgotten him aloud. Brendon had been the one to propose. Why didn’t Brendon want to carry through?

“Want some deep fried toast?” Frank asked.

“Isn’t that a little redundant?”

Frank shrugged. “Five bucks it tastes better when you’re sad and tired.”

Ryan couldn’t agree more.

. . .

Ryan woke up without waking up in a room that looked exactly like Ryan and Brendon’s shared bedroom, except the only furniture in the room was their bed. There were no windows, no doors, no lights, nothing, but the room itself was glowing like moonlight was streaming in from somewhere that Ryan couldn’t see. There was a single picture frame on the wall above the headboard— a painting of white wings against an inky black canvas. He looked around, wildly patting at the sheets, wondering if this was actually his room and this was some fucking up prank.

“Hey!” 

Ryan’s head whipped to the side and he stared, wide eyed, at Brendon, who was sitting on the bed beside him and smiling like this was the biggest surprise he’d ever receiver. Ryan looked Brendon over as an immediate instinct, looking for bruises because that’s what he’d been doing for years in his dreams. He reached out and pushed up the bottom of Brendon’s shirt, inspecting his stomach and hips, then his chest, then shoulders, and he wished he could get Brendon out of his pants just so he could double check Brendon’s legs.

“Wow, Ryan,” Brendon giggled. “Nice to see you two.”

“Where have you been?” Ryan asked, voice shaking. He was panicked and felt displaced in his existence, thrown off by the way his own fucking room wasn’t even familiar to him anymore. Brendon had been gone for a month, so having the boy in front of him was nearly a foreign concept, and Ryan had to start classes tomorrow. His head was reeling and he almost felt nauseous from how much was happening all at once. “God, Brendon, you were supposed to call me. You never fucking called me!”

“I’m sorry,” Brendon apologized weakly. “My phone’s broken.”

God, what a fucking cop out.

“Couldn’t you have bought another?” Ryan pressed. “Or Pete! Pete could’ve gotten you another. Hell, you could’ve just borrowed Pete’s phone.”

“We were busy,” Brendon said, head ducked, beginning to sound like he really regretted this. Ryan wanted to keep going, he wanted to keep being upset, but god, Brendon was the most important person in the world to him. Ryan couldn’t stand him hurting.

Ryan sighed and leaned forward to rest his head on Brendon’s shoulder. “I’ve just missed you. I’m sorry. I’m lashing out like a total asshole and I don’t mean to.”

“It’s fine,” Brendon mumbled, leaning against Ryan too. “I’ve missed you too.”

Ryan doubted that, but he didn’t say so. “How’s the tour?” 

As Brendon launched into story after story of excitement and partying and music, Ryan’s body slowly relaxed and the cinch around his heart eased. Brendon’s voice soothed him to his very fucking soul, and he didn’t want the dream to end.

. . .

Ryan woke up three hours before his alarm because that was when Brendon woke up, and it was odd to think that their dreaming roles hadn't changed. Ryan was still horribly submissive, regardless of the mental progress Brendon had made. He wondered if that meant if Ryan was a submissive person, or if Brendon was a dominant person, at least inwardly. Brendon definitely was the one to always initiate sex between them because Ryan still sometimes experienced latent revulsion towards the age difference between them and what it was like to go from raising a boy to fucking him. It wasn’t like Brendon was repulsive— Ryan would just suddenly remember holding Brendon to his chest and soothing his cries when he was half of Ryan’s size. Ryan was sure he’d ben over it eventually.

He laid in bed for a good hour before finally deciding that doing nothing was what made him useless. Ryan got up, put on his selected outfit (this tweed jacket with a periwinkle shirt and khakis, and outfit that Mikey had spent nearly an hour putting together), and went to the kitchen to have a bowl of cereal and maybe see if Brendon had, at least, texted him. He wondered what had woken Brendon in the first place. Most soul dreamers reported being able to hear the cusp of what woke their partner, like the first shrill call of an alarm or whatever engine backfired beyond the walls. Ryan had never had relaxed dreaming with Brendon before, dreaming when Brendon wasn’t being abused and locked in a hell house. He was in completely new territory.

Ryan almost wanted to wake up Josh and asked him questions about his dreaming, but Josh was over at Halsey’s place, and Ryan didn’t feel like crossing the backyard and going to Gerard or Frank. Asking Ray or Mikey was out of the question. They needed their sleep.

Ryan sighed and debated turning on the television and letting whatever was on play so the house wouldn’t be so jarringly silent. He appreciated the disjointed homes, but god, sometimes, now that Brendon was gone and Josh and Halsey were getting a lot more serious, Ryan felt really alone. The walls made the house almost echoey, and Ryan wondered if this was going to become a common element in his life. He wondered if he should just get used to this.

His phone dinged cheerfully to alert him to a text message, and Ryan jumped, startled, because he was a fucking spazz in the morning. The text wasn’t from Brendon, wasn’t even from Pete— it was from an unknown number.

_got into Utah safe—_

_wanted to let you know for bden—_

_this is dallon weekes_

The bassist, the replacement for Mikey. Ryan didn’t like to think in terms of being replaced in the band, but it was a fact that he needed to accept. He was surprised that Dallon Weekes had extended this communication. He was also a little surprised that Dallon Weekes even had his number, while also having the whereabouts to realize that Ryan was probably really fucking worried about his soulmate. While Ryan was confused and bewildered as to why Dallon Weekes was speaking to him out of the blue, he appreciated this. So much.

 _thnk u,_ Ryan respond. He then added Dallon Weekes’s details into his contacts so he would know who this was next time. He was feeling a lot more relieved than he’d expected to feel without actually hearing from Brendon.

Ryan finished his cereal and decided to head to work early.

. . .

“My name is Ryan Ross.” Ryan’s introduction was going to be a simple one, he hoped. All these kids looked tired and dully expectant, like they thought Ryan had been doing this for much longer than Ryan actually had. “I have a doctorate in psychology, so call me whatever you want— Dr. Ross, Prof. Ross, Dr. Ryan, Mr. Ryan, just don’t call me Mr. Ross, and we’re good.”

A few students nodded here and there, but most of them just stared at Ryan like their souls had vacated their bodies. Ryan could relate.

“I’m a very new teacher here at UCLA, so I’m going to ask for a little leniency and for you all to bare with me, just for a while, until I get into the groove of things. We’re going to be learning about the abnormal ways of the brain and our inner thoughts and subconscious, and touch on what could be called mental disorders, ranging from maladapted coping techniques to sexual abnormalities. But, to begin, I’m going to ask— are all of you aware of who your soulmates are? Or with your soulmates?”

Mostly everyone made some sort of gesture so show they knew or didn’t know, but one student, a young girl with curly brown hair and a Gryffindor (or was that Hufflepuff? Ryan never knew the difference) shirt raised her hand. “Does it matter if we have?” she asked, sounding defensive.

Ryan nodded. “There are certain topics that relate to soulmates that I may not have to discuss if everyone has already experienced the dreaming. This is simply me asking you guys so I don’t waste your time and all that money you paid for this class on a topic you’re already familiar with.”

The girl lowered her hand and nodded, seemingly pleased with the answer. Ryan understood soulmates and soulmate dreaming could be a very sensitive topic. Ryan knew that intimately. He hadn’t dreamed until his senior year. He knew how horrifying it felt to know you were alone, how easily it could crush you. But he really didn’t want to waste anyone’s time and annoy them and make them resent him, either.

“So, have we all dreamed, at the very least?” Ryan asked again. Every single person in the room raised their hand, and Ryan was very thankful. He knew he wouldn’t get fired for asking something sensitive like teachers would in public school, but he still wasn’t going to jump the gun.

Ryan went through the regular introductions that you would expect in a university course and didn't assign homework because he wasn’t an ass. He finished his first two classes and settled down for lunch, expecting to be alone because Jon said he had meetings for the first few weeks of classes. It was lonely again. There was a professor’s lounge that Ryan didn’t want to touch because he knew he’d be forced to make introductions and listen politely and pretend he knew what he was doing, that he was well prepared, that life wasn’t pretty damn confusing for him right now.

This was why Ryan was very surprised when he looked up to see Josh suddenly in his classroom and holding up a paper bag that had the logo of a familiar sandwich chain. 

“Thought you’d like some good eats on your first day since I came home and saw you packed a fucking veggie platter and that’s it,” Josh explained, watching Ryan fondly as he approached Ryan’s desk. Ryan’s room was a small amphitheater thing, with desks lining the wide “steps” that the students all sat on, all desks facing Ryan’s desk that was at the bottom of the theatre with a display set up to the Mac desktop Ryan had been given. Ryan didn’t share this room with anyone else. It was nice.

Josh pulled up a chair to sit at the other end of Ryan’s desk. He handed Ryan a sandwich, and Ryan inwardly celebrated when he saw it was the tuna sandwich with cheese that he liked so much. Ryan tucked away the veggie platter and thanked whichever deity was responsible for the existence of Josh Dun. That religious figurehead deserved at least eight virgin sacrifices and three days dedicated to its holy reign. Ryan paused and wondered if “holy” was a term that extended to Christian religions. He hadn’t taken any religious studies during his time in the education system.

“Stop thinking and eat,” Josh chuckled, kicking Ryan from under the table. Ryan pursed his lips and tried to kick back, but he completely missed and kicked the table. Ryan yelped and steadied the large computer that rocked dangerously, eyes wide. Josh laughed at him and kicked Ryan again.

“How you been doin’, kid?” Josh asked as he ate his own sandwich.

“I’m older than you,” Ryan reminded him, raising a challenging brow at Josh, daring him to fight Ryan on this. “I’m not a kid.”

“You’re a kid,” Josh defended, grinning. “You’ve got the body of a timeless adonis, but the cute grumpiness of a small child. It’s one of the many reasons why I love you.”

Ryan just smiled tightly, letting Josh see his unhappiness with that statement.

“How was class?” Josh asked, grinning like a dick.

“Good, I guess,” Ryan said. “No one seemed too offended when I asked them about their soulmate status. One girl asked by it was necessary, but was pretty accepting of my answer. No one really likes to have their money wasted on something they already know. The kids all seem nice so far, and I like it, I think. Jon’s gonna be free in a month or so, so I’ll have someone to work with. Mikey and Ray’s PowerPoints look really good, and I’m already working on the first test I’m gonna assign in a month. Three tests total, then the final, with a quiz every two weeks. Does that sound too crazy?”   
“Sounds perfect, even though I never went to Uni,” Josh snorted. “And you, Ry?”

“Pretty good,” Ryan said. “The students don’t fucking hate me, yet. I have a pretty good idea of what I wanna do with this.”

“Not what I meant, Ry.”

Ryan paused. “… Dallon Weekes texted me and told me that Brendon was okay. But Brendon hasn’t contacted me yet. We dreamed together last night. First dream since…” He shrugged. “Since then. And I’m kinda nervous, because it’s starting to look like Brendon’s not gonna be the one to keep up a lot of contact while he’s away. So, essentially— I’ll be pretty much alone again while everyone else is out there, happy as can be and with the people they love.”

“Brendon won’t be with the person he loves cause he’s not with you,” Josh pointed out, trying to be helpful.

“Brendon doesn’t love conventionally,” Ryan sighed. “He loves everyone. He doesn’t need me to be happy, regardless of the fact that he’s in love with me. If he did need me to be happy, we would’ve put this ring to good use.” He thumbed the silver ring while holding up his hand to show Josh. It didn’t even fit him correctly anymore. Ryan could spin the ring around his finger easily. “It’s fine, I guess. It’s gonna have to be fine. I’m gonna have to be okay with it, you know? That’s the only way I can be okay at all.”

“You shouldn’t have to settle for second best to be happy.”

Ryan laughed bitterly. 

“I’m serious,” Josh huffed. “Fucking tell this shit to his face, really. Let him know. And maybe you should be the one to call him from time to time. If he doesn’t pick up, then that’s his fault.”

Ryan nodded, knowing Josh was right.

“Problems don't fix themselves with well-wishing and staring sullenly out the window,” Josh continued. “You’ve gotta work for the change. Beyond awareness. Don’t be all pouty and mercurial and acting like a martyr. I’m kinda pissed at Brendon for pulling this shit, but you’ve gotta accept some responsibility.”

Ryan just nodded again.

“But, hey, I’m no expert,” Josh added as a final remark, taking a grotesquely large bite of his sandwich and looking at Ryan like Josh thought he was hot shit. Ryan thought Josh was definitely shit. Maybe not hot shit, but definitely bullshit. “So, Ry— Brendon not talking to you— how does that make you feel?”

“I’m the fucking psychologist here, asshole,” Ryan grumbled. He kept eating as he thought. “… It feels pretty bad.”

“How?” Josh pressed, watching Ryan attentively now. At least he was looking less like a jackass.

Ryan sighed and shook his head. “I don’t fucking know,” he said. “I’ve thought this to death, but only in my head. It doesn’t feel great or anything, but I get it. He’s busy. And yeah, maybe he could try and make me some time in his day. It’s not like that would be impossible, if Dallon Weekes has the time. Dallon Weekes has a wife and kids, and he still has time to text me on top of that, so shouldn’t that logically mean Brendon should have at least a tiny amount of time to talk to me? His fiancé?”

“Shit,” Josh said. “I completely forgot you two were engaged.”

Ryan’s heart sunk. “See what I mean?” he asked with a dismal expression. “I’m just not his priority right now. And It sucks. It hurts a lot and it makes me feel pretty helpless because I want to get married, but I can’t force him to return the desire and the action. I’m not gonna shove a wedding in his face and make him do it.”

“Yeah, that’d be pretty messed up,” Josh sighed. “… If it’s consolation, you’re due another wedding soon. Me and Halsey.” Josh smiled to himself. “We’re doing really fucking well, and I kinda wanna hold on tight and make her mine before someone better comes in a scoops her up. I’ll be hers too, of course. We’ll be each other’s. I honestly don’t believe in the concept of marriage. I think monogamy comes to those who want it and shouldn’t need a legal contract to make it legitimate, but…” Josh shrugged. “Everyone else is doing it.”

Ryan tried to be happy for Josh. He really fucking tried. But Josh was treating getting married was simply a passing fancy and just going with the crowd. He was flippant and careless and unwittingly disrespectful. It hurt Ryan to his soul and he wanted to scream and shout and cry about how unfair everything was, but Ryan wasn’t a fucking child, so he wouldn’t. Ryan wanted to be happy for Josh, yet he just couldn’t, not for real, so Ryan faked it. He plastered on a wide smile and exclaimed, “That’s amazing! When are you gonna ask her? Got a ring yet?”

“Nothing fancy,” Josh told him, grinning. “I mean, we’ve joked about using a ring pop, but I’m not that cheap. The record store has given me a good amount of pocket money, so I can afford something decent. I’m thinking of getting her a band instead of a straight up, center of the ring diamond, since she’s good at knocking things apart on accident. Did I ever tell you about the time that she dented the radiator when she was trying to refill the washer fluid on her car?” Josh chuckled, smiling like he was completely in love. “Not sure how we’re gonna manage the wedding photography, since she refuses to admit that any work but her own is up to her standards.”

Ryan nodded and kept the smile going as strong as he could.

“But, uh, hey— favor.”

Ryan let the smile dim a little. “What’s up, Josh?”

Josh rubbed the back of his neck. “So, uh, she never talks about her soulmate. What happened to him or her. Like, I don’t even know the gender or anything. And I’m kinda too nervous to ask her myself. Any tips?”

“Tips on what?”

“On how to ask her. I mean, what if I‘m bringing up a shitty ex? I’ve never heard of soulmates not working out once they met, but that’s not really something anyone wants to ever advertise.” Josh gave a little mouth shake and ate the last part of his sandwich. Eight inches in five minutes. Ryan was sure there was some sort of great sex joke in there. “I just want to know this part of her, but I have a feeling that she wouldn’t be willing to talk about it if it was something bad.”

“Well, we can ask her when I’m around,” Ryan said, throwing the idea out there. “Two people that she knows have been through trauma is better than one. Makes it feel more like a group therapy session than anything else. Might make her a little more willing, though honestly, Josh? I think all you gotta do is ask. She seems like a pretty open person with the right people. I say you just sit her down and ask her directly and see what she says to that. If she says she doesn’t want to talk about it, then leave it alone. She’ll tell you eventually. And if she doesn’t?” Ryan shrugged. “Then maybe that says something about your relationship.”

“She and I are rock solid,” Josh said confidently.

“Hitler thought he was going to win too,” Ryan shot back, just to be a piece of shit. Josh gaped at him, and Ryan knew that Halsey and Hitler had nothing in common. But Josh’s expression brought a real smile to Ryan’s face. “Dude, really— communication is key. I’ve been saying that for years to literally everyone, but it obviously hasn’t sunk in. Just trust me, okay? Talking is the best way to work things out, as long as the other person isn’t holding a knife to your throat with a certain look in their eyes.”

“I don’t think anyone’s trying to kill me,” Josh chuckled, watching Ryan again with a little less transparency. 

Ryan bundled up his napkin and wrapped up the second half of his sandwich. “I’ve got class in fifteen minutes. You can hang around campus or something, but it’ll be another four or five hours before I can go home…”  

“Thank you for coming, Josh,” Ryan said sincerely. “Really. I-I appreciate it. And I always love seeing you.”

Josh winked cheekily, then leaned over to kiss Ryan’s cheek. “Seeya at home,” Josh said, waving as he left. Ryan sighed and sat back at his desk, before turning the computer back on and getting ready for the rest of his day.

. . .

Ryan went home with notes taken beside the names of all the students he’d met. He wondered if it was normal to have so many classes in your first year at teaching at a university, but he was pretty sure the Tuesday and Thursday classes were some sort of added lab time. He wasn’t sure how any of this was going to work. He decided he was going to give as few papers and quizzes and classwork as possible, because he didn’t want to grade a lot of stuff. He hated grading things because he was a bit of a pushover. He liked to give strangers the benefit of the doubt; probably so they would like him more.

Ryan was actually a little late in arriving home. He’d been extra slow when packing up after his last class because there’d been this one kid, this boy— he’d been standing at the door, waiting for everyone to leave, looking like he’d wanted to say something. Anxiety had been clear on the boy’s pretty face, and really, the boy was pretty. He had a nice oval face and long black hair and pretty eyes with huge lashes. Ryan had been sure not to make eye contact and scare him off as he’d focused on packing his bag perfectly with the leftover sandwich being on the left side of his messenger bag and so it wouldn’t be crushed by the textbook. Every title had to face forward, too, and of course, Ryan had to make sure that no pages were wrinkled or crinkled. But by the time everyone had left the room, and it was just Ryan and the boy (whose name Ryan regrettably couldn’t remember), the boy ducked his head and left, looking filled with regret. Ryan sighed and wished he could’ve given the kid some sort of encouragement to speak his mind. He understood being scared, but sometimes things needed to be said.

Ryan sighed and looked around the empty house with a downcast expression. The loneliness was killing him again, and he wished he was back at the university so he could have someone to talk to. He debated going online and downloading a video game. Maybe a dating simulator. He would give anything for someone who seemed generally interested in his day and—

Ryan’s phone started to ring, and he lurched for it, praying it was Brendon, but not thinking to check the screen.

“Hello?” He blurted out, not caring how desperate he sounded for his soulmate’s voice.

_“Ryan?”_

Ryan’s hopes sunk when he heard Pete’s voice. But then he felt bad for feeling bad, and forced himself to cheer up. “Hey, Pete,” he greeted with another forced smile. “Sorry, I uh, I was a bit flustered. Just got back from work. How’s the tour?” How’s Brendon, was his unspoken question.

 _“Oh man, it’s fucking lit, Ryan!”_ Pete was laughing as he spoke. _“Brendon’s a firecracker, dude, going from part to party. Him and Zack and Kenny are total besties now, it’s so cute. And he’s getting vocal lessons from Patrick on his off time. He can drink like a fucking champ, too! Oh my god, Ryan, downed those shots like a mad man.”_

This sucked.

Brendon wasn’t busy.

He was partying.

Partying too much for Ryan. Partying wasn’t a good reason to ignore him, didn’t make Ryan feel any better about this. He understood wanting to have his fun, but to know that alcohol and bad lighting meant more than Ryan was… jarring.

“How’re you?” Ryan asked, needing off that train of thought. “Are you doing well? You are, right? And how’s Patrick? Are both of you healthy? Are you eating right? Brendon’s eating right, right?” He winced and cursed himself for bringing up Brendon anyways, despite his better judgement. “Just, you guys gotta take care of yourselves, you know? Brendon’s metabolism and eating habits are erratically underdeveloped, and he has a lot of intestinal issues and his stomach can be really weak with certain foods.” Ryan wasn’t sure all of that alcohol was any good for Brendon.

 _“We’re fine, Ryan,”_ Pete chuckled, voice softer, like he understood Ryan’s concern and even felt a little concern of his own. _“I’m making sure Brendon eats a lot of vegetables and fruits and he goes on runs with me every chance we get. He’s getting a lot of recognition, Ryan! People just know who he is when we’re walking down the street!”_

Ryan wouldn’t know about Brendon’s rising popularity. He avoided social media and the news for many reasons, one of them being the chance of seeing Brendon’s smiling face and knowing he couldn’t kiss him. He knew the chances of seeing something about Brendon were pretty low, regardless of his growing popularity, but Ryan still was wary to risk it.

“Just take care of him for me,” Ryan sighed, now just wanting to take a shower and go to bed. “And take care of yourselves.”

_“Will do, Ry— Patrick’s gonna drive to see his parents in Chicago in a week. Gonna be so lonely!”_

Ryan mustered up a laugh and listened to Pete drone on and on about how Ryan was missing out.

. . .

Josh came home late with Halsey. They were laughing and passion and two liter of Mt Dew between the two of them, covered in mud and dust. Josh had a huge bruise along his brow and kept babbling about missing the bar and hitting his head.

“Where’d you go?” Ryan asked once the peals of laughter died enough for Ryan to get a word in. Both of them looked very surprised and stared at Ryan for a moment too long. They obviously hadn’t noticed Ryan was in the kitchen. That was only a little annoying. Ryan totally existed, thank you very much. He repeated his question as he ate his bagel bites and drank from his glass of milk, firmly set on getting the story, regardless of how unfriendly the look Halsey giving him was.

“We went a played at a jungle gym,” Josh told Ryan with a grin, recovering from his surprise quickly. “I was trying to climb that spider dome thing, and made to jump for the bars, but completely missed and banged my head.”

Ryan stood and grabbed the first aid kit that was kept under the sink and set it down on the table, motioning Josh over to sit. Josh immediately complied and sat in Ryan’s vacated seat. Ryan brought a head to cradle Josh’s head in his hand as he turned Josh from side to side to inspect his pupils and the swelling and any sort of possible surface cuts. Ryan kinda loved how Josh rested easily in the palm of Ryan’s hand, even nuzzling into his hand at certain points, so trusting of Ryan. Ryan loved being friends with Josh Dun. Josh Dun was a fucking saint, and Ryan loved him. He put some antiseptic on a few cuts and made sure Josh didn’t have a concussion. Josh had let his eyes fall shut, smiling gently, and Ryan smiled too. He pulled away and turned to Halsey, then faltered when he saw she was glaring at him.

Ryan faltered and meant to ask what was wrong, but Josh stood and kissed Ryan’s cheek. “You always take good care of me,” Josh snickered. “That’s gay, boy.”

Ryan snorted and shook off Halsey’s glare by ignoring her for Josh. “You’re just as fucking gay, Josh. Don’t pin all of this on me.”

“Me? You’re the one engaged to a boy.”

“Do you want me to bring up how many times you fucked me in the ass?” Ryan challenged with a smirk and a raised brow. Josh narrowed his eyes in scrutiny before nodding slowly and raising a finger to point at Ryan.

“Touché, mon ami,” Josh conceded. “Touché.”

“It’s pronounced touche,” Ryan correctly incorrectly, grinning. He and Josh had binged “Drake and Josh” one night after three rounds of great sex and some awesome peach cobbler Josh had bought from Safeway on clearance, paired with an amazing red wine that was ten bucks. One of Ryan’s fondest memories, considering he hadn’t felt that relaxed in years. 

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” Josh said, going to Halsey and kissing her cheek just like he’d just kissed Ryan’s. “You two sit pretty and we can watch a movie or something and I’ll order pizza while Ryan tells us about his day.”

Ryan sighed once Josh was gone and turned to Halsey. “Okay— you’ve never had a problem with me before. What’s wrong?”

Halsey grimaced. “That obvious?”

“Painfully.”

She sighed and scratched at her scalp. “Josh told me something.”

Ryan nodded slowly, waiting for more. When she didn’t respond, he prompted, “What did he tell you?”

“He’s trying to get me to tell him something, I think,” Halsey said. “You know Josh. He can’t be straightforward half of the time cause he’s so god damn scared of having regrets that sometimes he’ll make regrets for himself anyways. I totally get why he doesn’t want to just ask stuff, though. I’d be nervous about dumb shit too. Anyways, so, I think he was trying to prompt this “come clean” session between us. It started out pretty tame. What gave him his first boner, who my first kiss was— dumb shit that you’d expect from a truth or dare circle in a high school. But then he drops this fucking bombshell on my head and I’m left reeling, Ryan, fucking spinning.”

Ryan was honestly a little scared to ask. “What did he tell you?”

Halsey shrugged. “Oh, nothing. Except for how you two fucked for a few years.”

Ryan wrung his hands together. “… Are you mad?”

“Not at Josh,” she said with deadly clarity.

Ryan ducked his head because he couldn’t maintain eye contact with Halsey knowing that this was partially his fault. He’d been blown away by how accepting Brendon had been of his and Josh’s mostly casual relationship— he’d forgotten to consider that other people wouldn’t be so accepting.

“I just can’t believe that you would ask him to do something like that so soon after Debbie’s death.”

“I didn’t ask him to,” Ryan told her, still not looking up. “Tyler, uh, Tyler actually kinda set us up. It was a meeting of the needs sort of thing. He’s only of my best friends, Hals. I didn’t fall in love and neither did he. It was just sex. Just two consenting adults that wanted to get off and help each other cope. We weren’t intending to hurt anyone. We never wanted to do that. We, w-we just needed something. Both of us.” He managed to meet her eyes for a split second. “We needed each other. But that’s over and it will always be over. You don’t have to feel threatened.” Because that was what this was about, and Ryan really couldn’t blame her. He would feel very threatened in Brendon insisted on seeing Sarah, hugging her all the time, kissing her cheek and acting like they were intimate, even if Ryan knew they weren’t. Ryan couldn’t blame her for feeling this way, so he wasn’t upset. He just wanted her to understand.

Halsey sighed. “I guess I’m just finding it hard to believe that there really isn’t anything between you two anymore. Look, maybe I just wanted to believe that it was only ever me or Debbie. Is that so wrong?”

“Not at all.” Ryan was good at making the irrational rational and he loved making crazy sound sane. He completely understood where Halsey was coming from concerning his experience with Brendon and Sarah. “It’s totally okay to feel that way when it comes to your love or whatever you two call each other. Just… don’t let it ruin anything.” He wasn’t sure who Josh would choose should Halsey insist on him choosing. “He’s an adult and he’s gotta be held responsible for his decisions. So are you, and so am I.”

Halsey groaned. “You sound like my fucking parents.”

“Uh, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” she said, waving him off. “You mean well. I’m not gonna be a jerk and say it’s you or me and that he has to choose. I know you’re his best friend next to Tyler, and I know that he would probably choose you.”

Ryan shook his head and meant to interrupt, but Halsey held her hand up to stop him.

“I get it, Ryan— you’ve got a lot more time and major trauma events than me. He’s been with you through so much, and vice versa. I’m nowhere near that sort of timely bond like you are, but I’d like to be and I’m not too keen on ruining my chances to reach that point by forcing him to make a decision that I already know the answer to.”

Ryan wasn’t sure if he should feel guilty for that or not.

“I honestly feel better talking about this with you,” Halsey admitted. “I hadn’t though I would, so I’m pretty surprised right now. But hearing you say that it legitimately won’t happen again… That’s just kinda comforting.”

Ryan nodded. “Happy to help, I think.”

Halsey smirked. “I’m getting meat lover’s pizza— any particular store you want me to choose from?”

Ryan honestly didn’t give a shit and said so. He was just happy he didn’t have another shit storm to deal with in his life. “So, uh, about his question— about your soulmate. What did happen to yours, if you don’t mind me asking. Is he or she dead?”

Halsey shook her head as he dialed. “Nothing to answer, really. I’m soulless.”

Ryan meant to ask what the hell that meant, but Josh came back in wearing a new set of clothes and dropped onto the couch, patting either side of himself. Halsey sat on his left while on the phone, and Ryan sat on Josh’s other side, and that felt pretty fucking right.

. . .

_“You’ve been partying,” Ryan said to Brendon softly. It was a statement, not an accusation. He wasn’t here to start a fight. He was just happy to see Brendon again and hear his voice, even if people argued on whether or not the dreams were truly real._

_Brendon was hanging his head like he felt guilty enough, anyways._

_“I-I’ve just been wanting to experience it all,” he told Ryan with a voice that trembled like it had when he was young and scared. Ryan reached out and pulled Brendon into his chest, a simple instinct that had been lying dormant through the years of Brendon’s progressive emotional development. “Kenny has been telling me that to really enjoy and experience the rock star life that I’ve gotta get wrapped up in it a-and focus on the road and the people and let the people back home rest. That’s what Pete does.”_

_“Pete does that because his soulmate is on the road with him,” Ryan pointed out gently. He made sure to keep all hints of resentment from his voice, conscious of the fact that Brendon would probably misinterpret the resentment to be for himself and for for this Kenny guy._

_“I just wanna have fun,” Brendon choked out, tearful. Ryan rubbed his back carefully. “I didn’t mean to ignore you. It just all happens so fast, and then I’m suddenly asleep in my bunk, and I only wake up when I have to do something because I’m tired from the crazy parties and stuff a-and I’m…”_

_“Just tell me you’re being safe,” Ryan beseeched. “That you’re being smart about this. No crazy drugs, always keep an eye on any drinks you get, don’t accept drinks from strangers… Don’t be alone for too long.”_

_Brendon nodded, looking up at Ryan with wide, sincere eyes. “I’m with Pete or Kenny or Zach or Dallon always. I’m never alone, they, they’re always so insistent on me being with someone, I can barely go to the bathroom alone!” Ryan was secretly proud of how Brendon’s vocabulary had increased. “I’m being so safe, Ry, I promise…”_

_Ryan nodded and craned his neck to press his lips to Brendon with an aching need that he did his best to keep under check. It sent an odd thrill of electricity up his spin, something palpable and flashing behind his eyes. Ryan had never felt that before, but then again, he’d never kissed Brendon in a dream before without being filled with anxiety and fear for Brendon’s life. These dreams, while stressful, were still the most chill soul bond dreaming he’d ever had. He wondered if Brendon noticed the difference._

_Brendon tilted his head back to make it easier for Ryan to kiss him, but Ryan pulled away instead and just rested their foreheads together._

_“Please call me tomorrow,” Ryan murmured. “Don’t make me beg.”_

_Brendon bit his lip, then nodded,looking remorseful. “I never meant to make you think I don’t wanna talk to you, I just… w-wanted to be a kid.”_

_Ryan’s heart went out to Brendon, and he forgave Brendon for everything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> www.wellthisisprettyrisque.tumblr.com


	3. The Better Chance of Survival Versus The Better View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray throws a bombshell so casually that people start to wonder if he's doing this on purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loveliest beta: cemeterydrivethru
> 
> i've read "Milky Way" as "Mikey Way" since i was like eight and honestly i think it's an improvement on the name

_This has mental illness written all over it,_ Ryan thought as he watched the same kid from yesterday hesitate to talk to Ryan after class again. He wondered if he should say something, or if calling the boy out would make him even more hesitant to approach. Hell, the kid could even run and drop Ryan’s class if Ryan’s assumptions to the boy’s anxiety levels were right. He wondered if the boy needed to ask him about himself or a friend or something. The subject matter would make a huge difference in explanation. Ryan just wanted to fucking help him.

Ryan looked up and saw that the boy had slipped out when Ryan had been feigning busyness. He sighed heavily and finished packing, before heading home. Ryan was only somewhat excited about going home after his second day of work. No one had come to see him during lunch, but Ryan hadn’t mind. He was expecting a phone call from Brendon. That was where the excitement came from.

Ryan made it home in a little under an hour from all the traffic, which was really good time. But as he tried to go through the back gate to get to the backyard to get to his house, Mikey interrupted him by slamming the gate shut before Ryan could completely open it.

“Hey, are you drunk? Because I have a great idea.”

Ryan stared at Mikey like he’d grown a second head. “Are you drunk?” he parried. 

Mikey grinned. That was the only answer Ryan needed.

“Why are you drunk, Mikey?” Ryan asked gently, putting on the kid gloves. “You know we’ve talked about this,” and they had, they’d talked about Mikey’s newly developed drinking problem time and time again, had talked it to fucking death, yet they hadn’t gotten any closer to making Mikey feel like he didn’t need the numbing quality of the poison. Ryan hated the smell of whiskey and tequila on Mikey’s breath, couldn’t help but associate the revolting scent with memories of his father, but he wasn’t about to abandon Mikey over his mistakes. Ryan was going to help him, like he needed to help everyone else that he cared about. “I’m gonna get you to bed,” he said. “You’re gonna sleep this off and have a big, greasy breakfast tomorrow morning, and everything will be okay. You’ll keep Ray warm and we’ll—”

“Ray’s dying,” Mikey interrupted. Ryan was amazed with how sober Mikey actually sounded. Not even a slur to his words. “Ray’s dying and, a-and I can’t watch. It hurts too much. Even in the dreams…”

“You two dream together?” Ryan asked, trying to keep that horrid curiosity from his voice. 

Mikey nodded. “Some nights. Other nights, we don’t, but the nights we do…” Mikey shuddered. “Th-the air is so thin in his mind. I can feel my skin decaying. The paint peels off the walls and it smells like asbestos and living death. I can’t… dream. I can’t dream. It hurts too much. Makes me feel too much.” Mikey stopped and stared into nothing, before turning and heading back to the main house. “I need vodka.”  Ryan grabbed Mikey’s upper arm and pulled him back towards himself, needing to deter Mikey from his imminent self destruction. “Let’s get you to bed,” he said again, pulling Mikey to the house, but on Ryan’s own terms. He didn’t let Mikey steer them into the kitchen and instead pulled him upstairs. Frank was passed out in bed with Gerard slung over Frank’s back, and Ryan shut their bedroom door for them just to be polite. Mikey kept trying to go downstairs, fighting against Ryan’s grip harder the closer they go to Mikey and Ray’s bedroom.

“I don’t wanna watch him die,” Mikey kept saying. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

“I know,” Ryan told him, repeating that over and over, because he did know. He knew what this felt like. Not the horrors of cancer, exactly, but the fear of waking up one morning with your soulmate cold and dead. The terror of knowing that you could lose the person who meant the most to you in the world and walk this world with no one at your side. Ryan knew what the fear felt like, and he would never wish that fear on anyone, least of all Mikey Way. Mike Way deserved the sun and awesome fruit snacks and an amazing view outside of his bedroom window that Mikey looked forward to seeing every morning while wearing awesome fuzzy slippers and nothing else, and Mikey Way deserved Ray Toro at his side for all of that, happy and healthy and in love. 

Ryan could really fucking hate the world if he thought about it enough.

Ryan pulled Mikey into the bedroom and his heart sunk when Ray looked up at him from the bed, wide awake and resigned. Ray knew what Mikey was doing. He’d heard Mikey all the way down the hall. Mikey and Ray really didn’t fucking deserve this. 

“We’re gonna get you to bed,” Ryan said again, steering Mikey to the empty side of the bed and lowering him gently onto the mattress. He drew the curtains closed, then pushing Mikey back down onto the bed when Mikey tried to get up again. “Stay there. Seriously.”

Mikey looked up at Ryan like Ryan had all the answers. “A-am I allowed to die with him?”

Ryan was so tired of death trying to tempt his family.

“Ray’s going to be okay,” Ryan promised, even though that promise wasn’t in his right to make. “You just need to sleep this off, okay?” He went out of the room quickly to get Mikey a glass of water, which he made Mikey drink. He then pushed Mikey to lie on the bed and pulled off Mikey’s shoes and jeans and put him under the covers. Ryan then went to the other side of the bed (once he knew that Mikey was gonna stay down), and crouched on the ground in front of Ray, who was looking at the wall like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“You okay?” Ryan asked in a gentle whisper.

“Should I just stop fighting?” Ray asked softly. “And go quickly? It’s been prolonged, stretched out over years. Is this unfair to him? To you? To everyone?”

“He’s drunk,” Ryan said. “He doesn’t understand what he’s saying. We want you to stay.”

“I’m so tired, Ryan,” Ray said. “And my head hurts a lot.”

“Do you need to take anything?”

Ray shook his head. “… Where is doctor assisted suicide legal?”

Ryan shuddered and shut his eyes for a moment so he could control his emotions. “… Oregon, I think,” he finally answered. “Oregon, Washington, and Vermont. They, it’s all legal in those states. Sometimes in other states, like here in California, with the right consent and papers and stuff, but, uh… Yeah. Those three. Oregon, Washington, Vermont.”

Ray nodded, digesting the information. “… Should I?”

“No,” Ryan said firmly. He opened his mouth to explain why, but couldn’t get any words out past the invisible vice wrapped around his throat. 

Ray, though, understood. He nodded. “Okay. I won’t.”

Ryan reached out to hold Ray’s hand, squeezing gently. “You’ll be okay, and so will Mikey. You’re gonna make it through this. Okay? There have to be other treatments.”

“None that I’m willing to risk…”

Ryan paused. “… Wait, what?”

Ray nodded again. “There are a few things that I’m just not willing to try. Mostly surgery.”

Ryan blanched. “Ray, what— why the fuck not? You haven’t looked into surgery yet? I thought you had! You told us the doctor said it would be too risky. Were you lying to us? Surgery is usually pretty damn successful against AA! Are you telling me that you haven’t—”

“It could sever the soulmate bond between me and Mikey,” Ray interrupted solemnly. “I don’t want to lose that. I’d rather die.”

Ryan couldn’t believe his ears. “You’re kidding, right?”

“People have been theorizing the brain is not only the organ in charge of the dreams, but also the bond itself,” Ray began, sounding even more exhausted than before. Ryan felt bad for making Ray strain himself like this, but he really needed to know the meaning behind this insane decision. “I don’t want to risk severing the actual bond. People get surgery in the brains to end the dreams, so wouldn’t that end that bond as well?”

“You’re talking about the soulmate bond like it’s some physical thing,” Ryan wondered aloud. “Why is that?”

Ray shrugged. “Well, it has to be, doesn’t it? How else would you explain what we feel for our soulmates? Mikey is an extension of me, like a second heart or nervous system. I need him like water or air, and all of those are true physical things. They’re things I can see and touch, and… I know this may sound kinda crazy, but what if the bond is something palpable to?” Ryan smiled sadly. “I don’t expect you to understand, but the closer I am to death, the more I’m seeing. Like how Frank and Gerard’s bodies turn towards each other whether they know the other is in the room or not, how Mikey starts to look as sick as me with each passing day, or how your body is altered and almost empty when Brendon’s gone. This bond affects us physically, so is it so crazy to believe that it could be physical, too? At least a little?

“The Chinese have this thing called the Red String of Fate. It’s a physical strip of red fabric that connects to soulmates together. They’ve theorized of this thing for thousands of years. The gods would tie a red string around the ankles of two people, one end on either person’s ankle, and they’d follow it to their soulmate. The Japanese believed the red string was around the peoples’ pinkies. And honestly, Ryan? That’s the most logical explanation I’ve ever heard of to describe what I have with Mikey. I mean, apart from the gods and stuff. I don’t really believe in that anymore.”

“I just don’t know why you think a red string translates to keep the brain,” Ryan admitted.

“What if cutting into my brain with a scalpel is like cutting the string with scissors? I can’t have that, Ryan. I can’t lose him like that.”

“You can’t lose Mikey,” Ryan said. “He’s right next to you, lying in bed, crying for you and the fact that you could die. All you’re doing by avoiding this possible cure is condemning him to a pained future of uncertainty.”

“But the bond—”

“Doesn’t define your relationship,” Ryan said patiently, finally understanding what this mean. Ray thought he was going to lose Mikey either way, whether by death or through this surgery, and if the surgery failed, then he’d feel even more alone in his final moments. Ray would rather take the safer route and guarantee his death than risk losing Mikey as he wasted away. “Ray, the soulmate bond is more for finding that one person, not keeping them. Once you have your soulmate permanently at your side, then there’s really no use to the bond, if only to say that he is your soulmate. But Mikey will be your soulmate whether or not that part of your brain lives on,” and this was just Ryan bullshitting about even believing that the bond was physical and existed in the brain. “The brain surgery is your best chance to survive, and a chance I think you should really take. You don’t need this physical bond, anymore. You already have Mikey.”

Ray cut his gaze away and didn’t respond for a moment. “… I’d like to get some sleep, Ryan. If that’s okay with you.”

Ryan sighed and ducked his head, then nodded. “I’ll leave you be,” he said. “Make sure Mikey takes those painkillers in the morning, and get him to cook bacon or something so he can get rid of that hangover. I, uh I’m also going to suggest to Gee and Frank and Josh that we all keep an eye on him. So he doesn’t do this again.”

“Thank you, Ryan.”

Ryan nodded his head and left in a hurry, fists clenched.

. . .

“I learned a new word,” Frank told Ryan as he and Gerard sat around the table. Frank and Gerard were eating meatless lasagna, and Ryan was staring helplessly at his phone. “It’s really two words put together— long pig.” It was a rare hour in the middle of the night in the middle of the week when Frank and Gerard could actually see each other when awake. Ryan was pretty sure this was the first time they’d conversed in about a month.

Ryan tore his eyes from the black screen to look up at Frank in partial interest.

“It’s used by, like, Polynesians. It’s the word for human flesh as food. It’s for cannibals. It’s what locals would call it so they could sell human skin to tourists as food, too, though I’m not sure if that’s legit, but damn, it’d be cool if it was.”

“It’d be the best damn pig they’d ever tasted,” Gerard agreed.

“Where’d you learn this?” Ryan asked.

“My Death and Dying Across Cultures course,” Frank replied as he ate, grinning manically. “It’s fucking rad— some women would throw their bodies on the funeral piers of their dead husbands, and if they didn’t do it voluntarily, other women in the tribe or whatever would throw that women on anyways. Fucking brutal, right?”

“Sounds messed up,” Ryan commented, looking back to his phone. He was coming on the last hours of his patience. He was ready to call Brendon on his own, but he was terrified of waking the poor boy up. Then again, if Brendon was asleep, why didn’t Ryan fall asleep with him? That had always been the rule before. Brendon would fall asleep, Ryan would hit the concrete right after. Maybe it wasn’t like that anymore? Maybe Brendon no longer had the same stressors? And maybe it was also because they’d been in close proximity for those four years. 

God, Brendon was twenty. And Ryan? Ryan was almost thirty. He shuddered and stared at the phone and tried to believe that Brendon would feel Ryan’s growing insecurities and call.

His phone lit up with Brendon’s name and Ryan’s hope burst to the surface like a submarine that hadn’t seen the sun in decades. He scrambled to answer it, pulling the phone to his ear, and gasping Brendon’s name, mostly in disbelief. His hands started shaking from nerves and excitement and he felt like a dumb kid again, having his first dream and praying it didn’t go wrong. “Brendon,” he breathed again, smiling. “H-hi.”

Brendon giggled and hiccuped, and oh god, he was drunk. Ryan had never experienced this without being there in person to make sure Brendon didn’t get distracted and walk off a curb and face plant onto the asphalt. Ryan bit his lip and his grip on the phone tightened. Frank and Gerard both got up to finish their food, but Ryan waved at them to sit back down, and he left instead, going into the study. He wasn’t going to disrupt anyone’s night with his own problems.

“How’re you, baby?” he asked breathlessly, going along with drunk Brendon anyways. “Are you alone?”

 _“No~ope!”_ Brendon sang, giggling again. _“I’m with Dallon! He’s such a good person, Ryan. He’s so nice. And, and, he’s just, like, Dallon, you know? He’s Dallon. And that means a lot to me.” There was a shuffle, like the sound of the phone dragging over cloth. “I love you, Dallon.”_

A muffled, _“I love you too, Brendon,”_ came through the microphone. The voice was foreign and sounded patient, like the person was dealing with a child, and Ryan was sure that that was actually Dallon Weekes, the only person who was actually looking out for Ryan and Brendon’s relationship at the moment. Ryan shut his eyes and smiled a bit, because honestly, out of everyone on tour, even Pete and Patrick, Dallon was the person Ryan was most comfortable with Brendon being with. He just seemed a lot more mature than anyone else, and someone Ryan would most easily consider trusting Brendon with. 

_“Ryan, Ryan, do you love Dallon as much as I do?”_ Brendon asked with childlike curiosity. 

Ryan smiled just as patiently as Dallon sounded. “I think I may. He seems like a very nice person.”

 _“He’s so nice,”_ Brendon practically moaned. _“He, he just, he’s good. He’s the good. He’s good in all ways and he’s so sweet, Ryan, he’s got the nicest hugs, and he’s just a little taller than you, so I crawl into his bunk and cuddle him and pretend it’s you.”_ Ryan was slightly miffed he was being replaced, but also touched that it was done in thought of him. Maybe Brendon wasn’t as flippant towards their soulmate bond as Ryan had thought. It was a comforting idea. _“I love him, Ryan. He makes me feel better about being away from you.”_ Ryan’s heart melted a little.

“How was your show tonight?” Ryan asked softly. 

_“Oh my goodness, so good!”_ Brendon gasped, sounding like he’d suddenly woken from a stupor. _“One girl grabbed and pinched my nipple, Ryan! It didn’t feel as good as when you do it, but it was still nice.”_ Brendon giggled. _“Still got a stiffy from it.”_

Ryan heard Dallon clear his throat loudly, and Ryan had enough of his whereabouts to feel bad and even a little awkward about how open Brendon was being. “Well, uh, save it for later, baby. Not in front of anyone else. That’s for you and me time only, remember? We’ve talked about this.”

 _“I know, I know,”_ Brendon sighed, sounding like he was pouting. _“Just makes my pants uncomfortable. Pete wants to get my a new wardrobe for the next tour, isn’t that cool?”_

“Next tour?”

 _“We’ve got another tour after this!”_ Brendon giggled. _“Then, then studio stuff. He’s getting me writers and composers! They’re gonna make awesome music for me!”_

Ryan bit his lip. “I mean… When is the tour?”

 _“Not, not for, like, a week,”_ Brendon said. _“After this one. A-and I was gonna ask you, too, d-do… I mean, you’re not teaching forever, right?”_ Brendon sounded oddly hopeful. _“Over, over the summers… Come with me? Not for a long time, I-I know you need to be with Mikey and stuff, and that’s totally okay, but, uh, I mean, for a week at a time? You could come with me…”_

Ryan found himself smiling. “I would love that.”

_“Jesus, Brendon, you almost fucking punched me!”_

_“I just threw my fist into the air, Ryan!”_ Brendon giggled. _“I just threw my fist into the air and almost hit Dallon and I feel so bad, but I’m so happy! I-I hate being without you, Ryan. Alcohol, a-alcohol is awesome cause it helps me forget. I love you, Ryan. I wanna be with you always. Can I? We, we’re never gonna be apart. Even if we are. You promised that, right?”_

“I did,” Ryan affirmed. “And I always will, because it’s still true. You and me, B, living into eternity.”

Brendon let out this wail-slash-giggle thing that made Ryan laugh. _“Dallon, Dallon says I need to go to bed, That I need water and painkillers tomorrow. He says he’ll only let me cuddle him if it’s okay with you. He said that you must give consent. Can I cuddle Dallon?”_

“Hand the phone to Dallon, baby,” Ryan requested gently. The muffled sound of hands and clothes, and there was new breath in the receiver, much slower and less labored. Brendon also became much more easily out of breath when drinking. Lifting himself from his chair could make him out of breath. “Is, uh, is this Dallon?” he asked, just to be sure.

 _“This is,”_ Dallon affirmed. His voice was kinda deep, and he even sounded more mature than anyone else Ryan had known. He sounded older, really. He just sounded older, and Ryan couldn’t explain why, but it was a huge fucking relief that Brendon was with someone who just sounded more mature, let alone actually being so. Dallon could probably smooth talk his way out of anything. 

“You have my consent to cuddle that dork,” Ryan told him. “And, uh, thank you for taking care of him. And also letting me know he was okay.”

 _“He really is getting wrapped up, you know,”_ Dallon told him. _“I’m sure you know Brendon better than any of us, so you know that when he gets into something, he develops tunnel vision and time is just an abstract concept he doesn’t really pay attention to. He gets up, gets ready, preforms, parties, and passes out. Sometimes I have to carry him home. I know he seems careless, and I’d honestly agree, but it’s not meant to insult or hurt you.”_

Ryan found himself smiling again. “He doesn’t mean to?” It was really nice to know that Ryan was only slightly paranoid.

 _“He should be more responsible,”_ Dallon said. _“But he’s not doing anything to hurt you. Not on purpose. I mean, I would recommend giving him time. Letting the novelty of this whole being on his own and touring thing wear off. He needs you more than anything and there’s no point in—”_

“I’m not upset with him,” Ryan interrupted calmly. “Not anymore, that is. I was at first, but… He’s apologized. And that means a lot more than I’d thought it would. I mean, I don’t, like, need him to be sorry or anything, but it helps a lot, and…”

 _“It’s not stupid to want an apology,”_ Dallon agreed. _“Yeah, I get that. When I first started touring and my wife had to stay behind with our newborn… I had a hard time contacting her because it would hurt too much to be without her. The dreams are nice, but they’re not the same as the real deal. I would want her there, and the fact that she couldn’t be made it harder and harder to talk to her like she was there. And listen, I’m not trying to justify Brendon’s actions and saying that they’re decent excuses that should let him get away with it, but I am trying to help you maybe understand where he’s coming from so it’ll be easier to address the problem and make him man the fuck up.”_

“Nah, I’m okay with waiting for a little bit,” Ryan said. “I’d rather he works it out on his own. It’ll make him seem more of his own decision and less of a slap on his wrist. I’d only get into it if I felt like he was starting to do it on purpose or with the intent to neglect.”

 _“If you’re sure,”_ Dallon said. _“We’re at the bus. I’m gonna get him to bed. Wanna say goodnight?”_

“Could I?”

More shuffling, the phone being passed again, and then Ryan heard Brendon giggling over the phone. _“I wanna play that, that new horror game when I-I get home,”_ he told Ryan. _“Outlast two! It looks so good! We can play and get scared a-and be so cute together, Ryan! You’re cute. You’re so cute, Ryan.”_ He sighed almost dreamily. _“I love you…”_

Ryan was smiling even wider. “I love you too,” he said. “Get some sleep, Brendon. Dallon has my permission, you big baby.”

 _“Your baby,”_ Brendon giggled. _“I’m your baby B!”_

“Night, Brendon,” Ryan hummed.    
_“Love you, Ryan!”_

Brendon hung up, and Ryan stared at his phone with a goofy smile. Having someone else affirm Ryan’s suspicion that Brendon wasn’t trying to hurt him made him feel much more secure about fucking everything. At least Dallon could confirm that Brendon wasn’t trying to hurt him. That was all Ryan really needed to feel better about this.

“Did it go okay?”

Ryan turned around and saw Gerard poking his head through a crack he’d made in the door. He smiled at Gerard and nodded. It had gone well, in his opinion. He was hoping that maybe, now that the flood gates had opened, Brendon would be a lot more willing to call Ryan a lot more often. “I think it went really well,” he told Gerard. “I’m gonna get some sleep. Night, Gee.”

Gerard ducked out out and Ryan followed him, going to the backyard and out the door instead of following Gerard to the kitchen. Ryan took of his shoes and let himself enjoy the grass between his toes, because he felt like he deserved this moment of simple pleasure. 

This was the best he’d felt in weeks

. . .

Ryan liked to start classes with one odd fact or mental anomaly/disability/whatever-the-fuck-he-wanted that he thought would draw the class into their discussion. Today’s topic was concerning anxiety disorders, a subject he was really fucking intimately familiar with, and he actually hated talking about it, but it was cathartic and teaching people about something you suffered from was its own special type of therapy.

What he wanted to start the class off with wasn’t actually an anxiety disorder, and could probably fall somewhere under temporary episodes of “insanity,” or something more related to schizophrenia or a weird hallucination. But nevertheless, Ryan thought it was appropriate.

“We’re going to start the class today with a thing called “Excited Delirium,”” he told the class. He was in his last class of the day, and the boy with black hair and bright eyes still would linger after class and fear talking to him. “It’s actually a rather controversial topic because it’s only a condition that has been proposed, and is something that is debated over when brought up.”

He clicked the keyboard and watched the slide change, smirking when he saw Mikey and Ray had given the title of “Excited Delirium” with a picture of a girl in a crowd of people, probably someone at a concert, crying and screaming and reaching out towards whoever was onstage while looking like she was about to faint. He thought it was a pretty fitting image and tastefully chosen. He wondered which concert this had been taken at.

“Excited Delirium is a phenomenon, I guess you could call it, where a person experiences a combination of delirium, psychomotor agitation, anxiety, slurred speech, hallucinations, disorientation, elevated body temperature and sensitivity to pain and inhuman strength all at once. It is a tentative explanation for how mothers can suddenly lift vehicles off their trapped babies, or how people can move seemingly impossibly heavy objects with little effort should a stressor be given. And sometimes it induces death from cardiac arrest, being re-titled “Excited Delirium Syndrome,” to better fit the incident.”

“Do people tack “syndrome” on the end of something once people die from it?” a student asked, a nice girl with pink hair and glasses. She had asked pretty good questions so far. Ryan couldn’t really remember her name

“The word “syndrome” means that the phrase or disorder or whatever has a set of medical signs and symptoms that all correlate with each other and usually relate to a specific disease. So, while I can’t say they just tacked it on there to show the person died, we can consider that it may have been done to show the moment the anomaly became chronic.” Ryan shrugged. “I’m not sure. I didn’t name it.”

She nodded and scribbled something down in her notes.

“So, to go from that, we’re going to be talking about anxiety disorders,” Ryan continued. “And we’ve got plenty to go over, trust me. We’ve got—” He clicked to the next slide that showed a list. “—Acute Distress Disorder, PTSD, Phobias, Social Anxiety Disorder, Panic Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Separation Anxiety Disorder, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. All just to name a few. We’re going to be touching on all of them for the next week. And if any of you have any questions, wait till I say I’m going to click to the next slide, as always, to ask. I may end up answering your question for you in the planned lecture.”

Ryan went through the slides like a robot, and was mostly okay, until he got to the slide for PTSD, because the image Mikey had put for this slide featured a small figure curled up in a corner with wounds all over their body. Ryan wasn’t sure if it was a POW or an abused child, but it still looked too much like Brendon. He could remember the room in Brendon’s head, remember the smell and the blood and the burning doorknob. He thought of how lucky he was that Brendon didn’t disassociate himself from the stressors, Brendon could’ve so easily developed a Dissociative Disorder and spiraled and lost his mind. The sleepwalking was… harrowing. But it could’ve been so much worse.

He felt like crying as he picture Brendon stretched out on a bed, sedated and tied down because he was trying to kill himself in the act of attempting to get somewhere safe. 

“Dr. Ross!”

Ryan flinched and looked up to the class. Everyone was staring at him. Ryan noticed that someone had written “Satanas inimical dei” on the wall right at where it became the ceiling.

“Uh, hi,” he said lamely.

“Kellin has a question,” a boy named Brad said. Ryan suddenly remember the girl with pink hair to be named Stella. 

Ryan scanned the students and saw one of them had his hand raised. The boy with the black hair and the bright eyes. Jesus christ, his name was Kellin, and he was finally going to talk. Ryan wondered if it was going to be about what he’d been wanting to talk to Ryan for, the questions he'd been avoiding.

“Yes, Kellin?” Ryan asked softly, giving him all of his attention. 

Kellin (Quinn, as Ryan struggled to remember) looked like he’d rather shrink into his seat then talk in front of the whole class. “The, the generalized anxiety disorder,” he said. Wow, his voice was like a girl’s. “You said it was co-morbid?”

“By almost ninety percent,” Ryan affirmed.

“With what?”

Ryan pursed his lips, then shrugged. “Any sort of large disorder. Bipolar Disorder and things that fall in there, eating disorders, Dissociative disorders, depressive disorders… General Anxiety Disorder can come with any sort of disorder because they all create a certain amount of distress in a person that would bring the anxiety into a more chronic state. Anxiety is the most co-morbid of all the disorders, in my opinion. It can be developed, or be something you are afflicted with since birth.”

Kellin nodded and scribbled something down too, though he looked much more serious about it than Stella had. Ryan smiled to himself and continued the lesson, happy to have had the temporary distraction from his own thoughts.

. . .

Ryan went home for the weekend and stopped in the kitchen when he saw Mikey sitting at the table with a bottle of whiskey, a whole jar of dill pickles, and a block of cheese. The smell of alcohol was pungent enough to make Ryan’s instincts and hair stand on end, images of his father flashing in his mind. He’d walked in on a scene like this one to many times in his childhood, and he knew was his brain was telling him to expect, but this was Mikey. Mikey wouldn’t do anything like that. Ryan had to think of another scenario that would make him more at ease with this.

“Are you pregnant?” was the question that stumbled past Ryan’s lips like the biggest fucking mistake. Mikey laughed, and it didn’t sound completely empty or broken, so that was definitely a step in the right direction.

“Not pregnant,” Mikey said. His voice was normal and his smile was controlled, so maybe he’d only just started drinking. Ryan hoped. “Just depressed. Ray’s been sleeping all day. I woke him up for some food, but he threw it up. Pretty sure I’m gonna ask the doctor for an IV that I can take home, or something.”

Ryan sat down at the table and put his wallet and work bag on the ground beside him. “You guys really aren’t going to do the surgery?”

Mikey’s jaw clenched. “Not like it’s my choice.”

“But he’s your soulmate, Mikey, and your husband. You have rights if he went into a coma, you have rights if he were impaired, you… you have rights, Mikey.”

“It’s his brain.”

Ryan was horrified. “You’e gonna let him die?”

“I can’t stop him,” Mikey choked out, reaching for the whiskey. Ryan didn’t tell him not to. Ryan hadn’t known about this angle, hadn’t known that Ray was willingly dying and not letting Mikey have any sort of hope. Ray was killing himself and making Mikey watch. This was… this was almost abusive. Manipulation through love, even if Ray never meant to manipulate Mikey at all. God, Ryan couldn’t even begin to imagine how betrayed Mikey must be feeling. To know that there was an option that could save Ray’s life, but Ray was unwilling to do. Ray was unwilling to do anything to survive and stay alive with the man who loved him more than anything. Ray was choosing this and wasn’t even gonna… Mikey couldn’t even fight this.

“I don’t know what to do, Ryan,” Mikey said, staring at the cheese. “I just wanna drink until I’m empty of everything that makes me sad and eat until I’m full of all the stuff that makes me forget. I wanna wake up with a hangover that makes me sick and I wanna pretend that that’s the worst thing happening to me at the moment. I just don’t want to feel this, Ryan.”

Ryan was struck with a sense of morbid pride that Mikey hadn’t relapsed into his self harm habits of past days. He wished he could be more useful. He knew how easily Mikey could’ve succumbed to thoughts of suicide or something as awful as that. Ryan was so fucking relieved that, even through this, Mikey was remaining strong. 

“You need to stop drinking,” was all Ryan could say. “You and your brother— you have addiction issues. Addictive personalities. You could become an alcoholic. I-it could—”

“Do what?” Mikey interrupted sullenly. “Turn me into your father? Your father’s dead, Ryan, and that’s kinda what I wanna be right now, so that isn’t really a good way to deter me from drinking myself to death. Alone in the living room, found cold and dead after days in my chair.” Mikey looked to the whiskey and smiled like the world had ended and he was happy to see it happen. “I don’t want to stick around, Ryan. Just like you hadn’t.”

Ryan couldn’t get mad at him for what he’d said. He knew Mikey was right. “You don’t wanna die before Ray, do you?” And fuck, that was a low blow, Ryan knew that. He’d just said something really fucked up, and there was no avoiding it. 

Mikey was silent. “… What’s your best advice? For death?”

“Get over it,” Ryan responded immediately. “Not because you’re being ridiculous or anything, but because you have to move on, or you’ll never be okay again. You’ll never feel human again. Getting over something is not a bad thing. But Mikey, you can’t… you can’t give up. Keep trying to make Ray consider the surgery. It could save his life. He’s your fucking soulmate, Mikey, he can’t do this to you. He just…”

“It’s his brain,” Mikey repeated. “His body. I can’t tell him what to do.”

“I’d punch him if he wasn’t so sick,” Ryan said because he wasn’t thinking.

“I’d fucking punch you back,” Mikey snapped, looking up with a fire in his eyes that should’ve been there when Ryan had insulted him about dying before Ray. “Jesus, Ryan, is that how you wanna do this? Threatening him? A man with cancer? What the fuck is wrong with you? How could you even consider doing that, you piece of fucking shit! You’re a sick little fuck, Ryan, you’re just a fucking piece of god damn shit and a waste of space! If you think for even a second that I would let you hurt him, then you’re the stupidest mother fucker I’ve ever known! I’m gonna fucking—” 

Mikey cut himself off and slammed a fist onto the table, causing Ryan to jump. He could smell the alcohol and the violent act was too close to home and Ryan had to leave. He got up and left the house in a rush, walking down the street of the neighborhood with nowhere in mind, just completely on autopilot. He’d always leave the house when his father got angry. He’d always walk until he didn’t know where he was before trying to find his way back home. That would usually be enough time for his father to calm down.

Ryan was somewhere downtown at midnight when he blacked out while trying to cross the street.

. . .

_“Ryan, hi!” Brendon exclaimed, launching himself into a hug with Ryan, messing up the sheets. Ryan’s head was reeling as he tried to ground himself and figure out where the fuck he was, because these weren’t the streets of LA, this was his room with a person who was across the country. It was surreal, but mostly alarming, and he had this sense of disconnect, like he wasn’t even sure if he existed, because someone who was in existence probably couldn’t teleport, and jesus, wait, Ryan was asleep, he was fucking asleep, oh god, was it back? Was the narcolepsy back? Ryan couldn’t be a teacher with narcolepsy._

_“Hi, baby,” Ryan mumbled in a daze, rubbing Brendon’s back and trying to convince himself that this was as real as real could be, while still being in his head. “I, uh… are you okay?” Brendon usually only induced a narcoleptic episode in Ryan when Brendon was forcefully put under._

_“I think I tripped,” Brendon told him with a pout that Ryan would usually find heartwarmingly adorable. “I was walking and then I saw concrete, so I probably tripped. We were walking back to the bus from this awesome afterparty at this one girl’s house. They tried to make me do cocaine, Ryan, but I said no.” Brendon giggled. “Dallon was so proud of me.”_

_“I’m proud of you too…”_

_Brendon frowned. “What’s wrong?”_

_“I, uh…” Ryan shook his head for more than one reason. “I just, I was on a walk. I’m having an issue figuring out how I got here. It’s, uh, it’s alarming. I haven’t blacked out like that in a few years. It’s pretty disconcerting.”_

_Brendon looked alarmed. “Did that happen to you a lot?”_

_Ryan paused. Had he never told Brendon about his narcolepsy? “I mean, in the beginning, and then occasionally after,” Ryan said. “Whenever you got knocked out or fell asleep, I’d sleep too. That was just how it worked. I used to fall asleep whenever you did, and could never control it, but you would never fall asleep when I did.”_

_Brendon bit his lip. “Is that why you tried to kill yourself?”_

_Ryan had forgotten that happened. “I mean, it was… It was just a momentary lapse of judgement. I felt out of control and the relationship seemed kinda, like, weighted. Unfair. Uneven. I just wanted to see if I could make you fall asleep. I was delusional, and it was during a hard point of our relationship. I was stupid and felt like you didn’t… care… about me. And that was why you wouldn’t fall asleep.” Brendon looked wounded. “But I know that isn’t true,” Ryan struggled to alleviate. “You didn’t mean to hurt me. It was all okay.”_

_“I’m sorry I was such a jerk,” Brendon said, appearing crestfallen. “I-I was young and stupid and mean. I’m very sorry.”_

_Ryan just nodded. “Tell me about the tour?”_

_“I’ve made a friend,” Brendon said, smiling tentatively. “His name is Travie, and he’s so cool, Ryan. He’s got these amazing words in his head and all this talent and Pete thinks I should do a song with him because Travie’s already pretty famous and Pete thinks it’ll be good press for me, or whatever. Pete wants me to start branching out with other musicians. He wants me to work with that one guy from FUN and then another person from, uh… From, from somewhere.” Brendon was smiling in childlike excitement, and Ryan’s heart swelled a little, despite the anxiety still roiling in the pit of his stomach. “I’m gonna get even more famous, Ryan, it’s awesome! People want me on their shows and stuff, a-and the venues are getting bigger. I’m getting a lot of attention, and so many fans, and I love the fans, Ryan. They’re all amazing. All so sweet. They want my signature and picture, and it’s just so cool because I never imagined people would be drawn to me like this.”_

_Ryan wasn’t surprised. He’d always known Brendon was infectious. Brendon was a disease that made you dance like the devil and love life and there was no defense, no cure, no way of stopping an outbreak once it began. “I’m you’re biggest fan, baby,” Ryan said instead of saying anything else that he could’ve regretted. Brendon’s smile in response to Ryan’s statement was the brightest thing Ryan had ever seen in his life. It was like staring into burning magnesium and losing his eyesight in a way that made him feel alive. Ryan was reminded of why he fell in love with Brendon, over and over again, every time Brendon smiled like this. After all the pain and horrible trauma, Brendon could still smile like a fucking angel full of light and life and love and just… everything Ryan worked so hard for._

_“I love this, Ryan,” Brendon breathed, sounding like he was dreaming. “I love touring. I miss you so much, though, but… The music makes it feel a little easier to cope.”_

_“I love you, Brendon,” Ryan said softly._

_Brendon grinned wide again and leaned in to kiss Ryan, curling into Ryan’s lap, where he belonged._

_. . ._

Ryan woke up in a fucking jail cell with a bandage around his head and wondered if he should just quit his job before they fired him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> www.wellthisisprettyrisque.tumblr.com


	4. "The Light Inside has Broken, But I Still Work."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hopefully none of this is the beginning of a pattern

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> betaed by the amazing: halseyeschemicalromance
> 
> who names a food truck "where's the food truck" just so they can use the acronym "wtf" like who does that

“Hello!” Ryan shouted, wondering if he should rattle the door to help himself get more attention. “Can anyone here me?! Why am I here?!” 

There was no sound, aside from a random shout of garbled language that came from someone who was probably in a cell for a reason. Ryan had no idea why he was here. He had no idea why his - okay, he knew why his head hurt. He’d blacked out in the middle of LA and probably knocked his head, but that didn’t explain why he was in fucking jail. He wondered why he wasn’t in a hospital instead. What if someone had reported him? What if he’d slept walked and groped some poor man or woman? What if he had, like, this weird alter personality that came into being while asleep that was created by hitting his head, and-

Ryan really needed out of this cell, ‘cause he was thinking stupid thoughts.

 _“Hello!”_ he shouted even louder, kicking the door. “Somebody! Please!” Claustrophobia crept into his eye sockets, and that didn’t make any sense either. His hands started to shake and he wondered if he was going to be incarcerated against his will for psychological reasons, or maybe misdiagnosed dependency issues. 

He wasn’t sure how a police officer would take a horrible skinny man passed out on the streets, but Ryan would probably assume cocaine or heroin, because Ryan would assume cocaine or heroin. Ryan would totally think it was an addict on the ground: life in shambles, but somehow in pretty decent clothes. Still, Ryan looked way too young to be as smart as he dressed, so Ryan couldn’t blame them for thinking the professor-style clothes he was wearing were a ruse of sorts, or some sort of hipster style. God, Ryan was so lucky he hadn’t gotten mugged.

There was a jangling of keys, and suddenly a buzzer went off and the door swung open on some electric hinge. Ryan stumbled back and stared down with wide eyes to the stout policewoman who was staring him down with a “no-nonsense” look in her eyes. She had to be, like, five feet tall, and yet she was still one of the most intimidating figures Ryan had seen in ages. And Ryan had faced down quite a few evil people in his lifetime. 

“I, uh,” Ryan stammered, faltering in his passion togged the fuck out because he was worried he was about to be kicked in the jewels. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed loudly in exasperation, before opening the door wider and gesturing for him to leave the cell. Ryan did, albeit hesitantly, and she led him to an interrogation room. He only knew it was an interrogation room because the door had a sign stating: INTERROGATION ROOM 3. Ryan was fucking terrified at this point. Did he hurt someone? Oh dear god, what if he’d killed someone? Ryan’s life would be over. Going to jail wasn’t ever in his fucking plans, he couldn’t-

“Sit down,” the woman ordered in a heavy Hispanic accent. Ryan didn’t delay in doing as she said and dropped into the chair. She didn’t handcuff him, which was a good sign, but she did lock the door behind herself when she left him alone in the room. Ryan looked around with wild concern for his own safety. He knew the mirror was definitely one of those two-way things he saw on the television, and Jesus Christ, his heart was going faster than the heart of a rabbit being chased by a fucking demon. 

He wondered how much trouble he was in. God, he didn’t want to go to jail. Ryan Ross was fucking pretty, skinny, and not at all intimidating — he was going to become someone’s bitch fucking lazer quick. He was going to get fucking brutalized and Ryan couldn’t-

The door opened, and a man in a suit showed up with a file, but he was smiling, and that meant a lot to Ryan. Ryan was still really fucking wary, but he was a little more at ease. 

“Hello, sir,” the man said, holding out his hand to shake. Ryan did so, and the man sat down at the other end of the table. “I’m Detective Mason,” the man said. “You collapsed in front of my squad car last night. As according to regulations, I had your head checked out by paramedics, and they treated you, but deemed the wound to not be serious. Not even a concussion, from what they can tell. I had to take you back here because I didn’t know what kind of drugs or substances you could be under the influence of. You had no form of identification on you, and that’s why you woke up in a cell.”

“I thought I’d hurt someone,” Ryan said.

Det. Mason raised a brow. “Have you?”

Ryan’s eyes went wide. “Jesus, n-no, no. I haven’t hurt anyone, I swear. I just, I-I have a… medical… problem. I have a medical problem.”

“And what would that be?” Detective Mason asked. He pulled out a tiny notepad and used a pencil that was only an inch long and the was eraser mangled, probably by teeth. 

“I have narcolepsy,” he said. “A side effect from soulmate dreaming. I’m so sorry. I haven’t had a narcoleptic episode in years, I just, I wasn't expecting it to happen. I was going on a walk to get away from the house and I suddenly just hit the ground, and I just… I didn’t expect it. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“Are you on anything right now?” The detective asked. “Cocaine? Heroin? LSD? Or maybe just some good vodka?”

“I swear to god, I am completely sober right now,” Ryan said. “I just… it’s the narcolepsy, sir. I’m so sorry.”

“What’s your name?” the detective asked. “Do you have any sort of identification on you?”

“I left my wallet at home,” Ryan explained. “My name is Ryan Ross. I, I can call a friend, have them bring it to the station for me. Which station is this? I promise I can get you whatever identification you need, just, I need to call a friend. They’ll bring it here, I promise. Please, just, let me call someone. Let me call my friend.”

“You seem pretty nervous,” Det. Mason observed with deceptive calmness. “Any reason for that?”

“I blacked out on the streets, dreamed with my soulmate who’s across the country, then woke up in jail.” Ryan ran a hand through his hair. “I just… I’m reeling, okay? I’m not… I’m having trouble keeping my feet on the ground. My head above water. Please understand. I’m so sorry. I just, I can call someone and they can vouch for the narcolepsy, I swear they can, and they will. Just… please.”

The detective paused, then slid his cellphone across the table. Ryan snatched it up quickly and flicked to the dial zone, plugging in Josh’s phone number, which he had memorized after a lot of nights of being alone and broken. Ryan knew Josh’s phone number better than he knew his own. Josh picked up eventually, sounding groggy and totally fucked, which was the best case scenario in Ryan’s mind, because he could have not picked up at all. 

_“Who is this?”_ Josh asked sleepily. 

“This is Ryan,” Ryan replied urgently. “I, I’m at the police station. I don’t know if Mikey told you anything, but I ended up going on a long walk and I didn’t bring my wallet, and I passed out, the, the narcolepsy is back, a-and now I’m at the police station, and I need you to bring my wallet down here so I can prove who I am and maybe you could totally back me up on being a narcoleptic?”

Josh was silent for a really long second. _“… What the fuck, Ryan…”_

Ryan winced and ran a hand through his hair. His hair felt greasy and disgusting, and he was struck with the unnerving need to just go home, where he could take a shower and cope with the growing shock that he’d woken up in a damn jail cell. He’d had tons of nightmares like that back when he was eight or nine. Existing in a cell, a cage, a place where he couldn’t escape the harsh hand of his father who would always be the person with the only key to the door that would allow him to escape.

“Josh, please,” he pleaded, not being above begging, not when he was surrounded by four stone walls that were, admittedly, much more familiar than they would be to the average person.

_“I’ll be over in a second, Ryan. Which station are you at?”_

Josh sounded even more tired, but Ryan was too relieved to care. He told Josh the address that the detective had told Ryan, then handed the phone back to Detective Mason after hanging up. Ryan felt like crying. He was going to cry in front of a detective and forever humiliate himself in the eyes of the law enforcement community.

“When your friend arrives, we’ll let you know,” Det. Mason said as he stood and left the room. Ryan was left staring at his reflection, along with his shitty thoughts that prompted feelings of sickening self deprecation.

Fuck.

How could he have been so stupid? Of course he wasn’t safe, and of course he wouldn’t be able to keep a fucking job for more than a week. Ryan wasn’t sure how he’d gotten through freshman year of college, let alone graduate. Jesus Christ, Ryan knew he was a mess, but not to this extent. He’d never ended up in a fucking jail cell before from how fucked up his head was. Ryan was such a fucking disaster.

He hung his head in his hands and tried to calm down. Brendon had spent the rest of the night talking about the new Travis, and Ryan had been reminded of Sarah. Brendon seemed to fall in love quicker than Ryan had ever expected, and honestly, Ryan was wondering just how much more it would take for Brendon _really_ fall in love, like he was supposed to be with Ryan, and only Ryan. 

Ryan had decided a long time ago that he couldn’t share Brendon, not emotionally like that, and definitely not sexually. Ryan refused to be in any sort of polygamous relationship. He would tell Brendon that it was either him or someone else, not both, and Ryan would try not to have hard feelings should Brendon choose that someone else that wasn’t Ryan.

Ryan knew he was a mess, though, and it wasn’t Brendon’s fault. Arguably not, that was. Ryan was sure a few people out there would find a way to blame Brendon for Ryan’s blackout, probably some bullshit about Brendon being at fault for fucking tripping, but Ryan wouldn’t listen to those people anyway. He knew the narcoleptic session wasn’t Brendon’s fault, and entirely the fault of Ryan’s own stupid head that was way too attached to Brendon. 

Ryan couldn't understand how his brain was even more dependent on Brendon than Ryan was already consciously aware of. How much worse off could Ryan be, mentally? Granted, there were people with disorders far worser than Ryan’s own predicament, but this was definitely one of the worst things he’d ever felt. The feeling of helplessness to the reactions of his own body. Ryan was going to have to go back under surveillance if his narcolepsy had actually returned. What if he passed out in class? Or in an important meeting? Narceolpsey had almost ruined school for him, and now it was going to ruin his job.

He agonized over what to do and then began to gingerly feel at his skull, where his head was bandaged. He wondered if this would scar and add to the collection he already had from his narcolepsy. 

Gerard had asked him about scarring literally years ago, and Ryan wasn’t sure if he cared yet. He hadn’t cared about the scars then, and he definitely didn’t care know, though he probably should, now that gaining any scars would just be a testament to his carelessness, and entirely meaningless. Back when Ryan first had his narcolepsy, any scars he could have gotten from blacking out would’ve had the purpose of signifying him comforting Brendon and becoming one step closer to finding him. But now, they’d just be a reminder of how fucking dumb Ryan was when he felt cornered and was panicking.

Ryan sighed and hung his head in his hands, exhausted and tired of listening to himself. Ryan knew he could drone on, and on, and fucking on forever, and it was probably almost as annoying to himself as it was to everyone else. 

Ryan wondered how his friends could stand to be around him when all he did was talk and try to solve every single problem, even if nobody wanted it solved. They just wanted him to shut up and listen. Ryan had a habit of using all of his gained knowledge to try and rationalize everything, and he was sure his friends hated it. Sure they saw him as a know-it-all who was stubborn and lorded his degree over their heads. 

Ryan knew he could be a shit friend, he just wondered how long it would take before he could rely on them to get him from jail. Wondered how long it would take for them to grow tired of him and leave him behind, but God, they’d been telling him that they would never do that, yet could Ryan believe them? Of course he could. Of course Ryan could believe that. What kind of asshole was he to suggest he couldn’t? Ryan needed to get his fucking anxious paranoia under control, he didn’t have excuse for being such a fucking dick to his friends. God, Ryan could be such an abusive piece of shit.

A knock started Ryan out of his stupor of self deprecation, and his head snapped up when the detective came back through the door. Ryan had no idea how long he’d been stuck in his head, but it must’ve been upwards of thirty fucking minutes, Jesus, because there was no way Josh could’ve made it through traffic to get downtown in less than that time.

“Your friend his here,” Detective Mason told him. “A Joshua Dun. Is that correct?”

Ryan nodded. Detective Mason held out a hand to Ryan, gesturing for him to stand and leave the room. He led Ryan to the front of the station, but still behind the glass wall that cut off the felons from the citizens, and Ryan caught a glance of Josh on the other side of the glass. A surge of relief went through Ryan, but it was dampened by how tired Josh looked, and Ryan meant “tired” in more ways than the traditional sense. Josh looked tired of having to do this sort of thing. Ryan felt a little hurt, but again, he was probably just paranoid.

“So, this is you,” Detective Mason said, looking over Ryan’s ID that Josh had probably brought. “George R. Ross the third, born August 30th, 1986. Duh-duh-duh, yada yada…” The detective eventually nodded. “Yep, this all checks out, I guess. You’ve got nothing against you except for a few parking and speeding tickets, all of which you have paid. This narcolepsy — are you taking any sort of medication for it?”

“Meds don’t really help,” Ryan said. “It’s a soulmate thing.”

Det. Mason nodded. “Yeah, I had some sleeping issues back when I was trying to find my girl.” He handed the ID over to Ryan. “Well, considering your mostly clean record and the fact that I see no need to waste any sort of inebriation test on you, we’re going to let you off with a warning. Be more careful, Mr. Ross.You’re lucky my brake reaction time is above average.”

Ryan shuddered when he realized how close he’d come to dying.

They buzzed him through to the other side of the glass, and Josh sighed when he saw Ryan. Ryan’s heart broke a little, and then everything just became a little too much and he started crying. It wasn’t anything huge, they weren’t earthshaking sobs of agony, he just… He cried. Silent tears going down his cheeks like a bad romance movie; his expression didn’t even change. Ryan just fucking cried and didn’t move from where he stood. He brought a hand to his face and tried to wipe the tears away with a childish fist, but it didn’t work. Ryan sniffled, then hiccuped, then hid behind his hair and tried to pretend that Josh hadn’t seen him cry. He usually wouldn’t care, but right now, he felt like Josh would just get annoyed with him crying.

“God, Ryan,” Josh huffed, and that only made it worse. Josh was exasperated. Ryan hiccuped again and tried to turn away, almost tempted to ask to be put back in the cell, because waking up there felt better than this. He would prefer to be in prison than this. An emotional exaggeration made by Ryan’s need to explain and handle the pain he was feeling. 

“Ryan, just calm down,” Josh said, reaching out to touch Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan flinched away, though, and refused to look at him, almost wishing Josh hadn’t come at all. He should’ve called Frank or something. At least Frank would be less passive aggressive about his frustration with Ryan’ decisions, and that would be a lot less painful than cold shoulder of flippant annoyance. Ryan would prefer being chewed out than seeing how disappointed Josh was.

“Ryan,” Josh repeated, grabbing for Ryan again and holding on tight enough this time that Ryan couldn’t pull away. “You’re tired, I get it. Let’s get you home, okay?

Ryan sobbed harshly.

"Ryan, why don't you and I just get you some breakfast instead?" Josh suggested with another sigh that made Ryan feel so fucking terrible. "You could probably do with some food in you. We can talk about what happened and what to do next. It's not like you broke the law or anything, you just got a bad hand."

"I've been getting a hell of a lot of bad hands, don't you think?" Ryan demanded tearfully, looking everywhere but Josh. He couldn't stand to see the disappointment. Hell, he just couldn't stand. His knees were wobbly and he was having a hard time imagining himself keeping his food down. The very idea of eating was almost nauseating. He didn't want to eat or sleep or even shower; he didn't want to do anything that could be self indulgent because he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve nice things and a full stomach, and he certainly didn't deserve Josh. 

"Ryan."

Josh's voice cut into Ryan's thoughts like a knife, and Ryan flinched into awareness. He stared at Josh, still crying, his face ugly and red. 

"W-what?" He sniffled. 

"Whatever you're thinking, I need you to stop," Josh said firmly, reaching out and holding Ryan's face in his hands. For a split second, Ryan almost thought Josh was going to kiss him. "You're not a bad person. You didn't do this on purpose. Things are just getting shitty again, but they won't stay that way. We'll get you some food and then get you to bed and then figure out how we're gonna handle this. We can, like, figure out drugs or something. You've got a CAT scan coming up, right? Maybe that'll tell us something. Maybe Travis could have some revolutionary drug. You don't need the dreams anymore because you've already found Brendon. What if we just find a way to end them? I know Brendon doesn't call very often, but if it's messing up your life to the point of where you can no longer go outside without some risk of passing out..."

Ryan shuddered and tried not to think of how much more of a burden he was going to become. He hated to remember the days where he needed a ride to school constantly just to assure he wouldn't fall over and crack his head open like a melon. Back then, Ryan had felt like he should've been put in an assisted living facility just for the sake of his friends. He was better off tied to a bed or chained to a wall. At least he couldn't waste anyone's time. 

"God, Ryan, get out of your head," Josh said. "It's dark in there. Too dark for someone as good as you. Just come back to me, okay? And stay out of there. We'll get food and get you home and leave it at that for now. You just need to stay out of your head and stay with me."

Ryan nodded, blinking back the last of his tears and following Josh out of the station. He took stock of what part of town he was in and knew he was so fucking lucky that he had dropped in front of a cop. Anyone else would've ran him over, drove on, and claimed insurance for any sort of damage. Josh led him to the car and opened the door for him and everything. "How's your head?" Josh asked gently, eyeing the bandages. Ryan just shrugged, not having much to say on the matter. It hurt. That was all there was to it. "I'll check it out when we get home," Josh added. "After breakfast. Just to make sure nothing's broken. The paramedics checked you out, right? Before they locked you out? They must've though you were on drugs or something."

Ryan sat in the passenger seat with a wince. "They said I was fine. And yeah. Drugs. Or alcohol. Couldn't give consent for a test, so there wasn't one, but there was no point in bringing me to a hospital bed where I'd waste the space and wrack up a bill. It was actually kinda considerate of them.” He realized how easily he could’ve been dropped in the hospital where he could’ve been billed for fucking everything, from the ambulance ride to the sheets they put over his body. Ryan’s insurance wasn’t that awesome — he was a high risk patient and definitely an even higher risk customer. Literally anything could kill him when he was narcoleptic. God, and with his luck, a fucking airplane could drop out of the sky and kill him, but no one else in the plane, because the world just kinda hated Ryan.

Josh drove to the closest breakfast place that didn’t make Josh or Ryan a little nervous to be at, and it turned out to be a Denny’s.

“Fucking love Denny’s,” Josh told Ryan. “I almost always have a craving for this place.”

“The only time you get a craving for Deny’s is when you’re drunk or high,” Ryan said. But he got out of the car anyways and followed Josh into the diner, smiling tightly to the stewardess and not bothering to look at the menu. He knew he was gonna eat so many fucking pancakes. Ryan fucking loved pancakes — especially when he didn’t have to make them. Eating food that he didn’t make was the best kind of food, and even better when he only had to pay for half of it. He loved partially free food.

“I’m gonna get so many fucking waffles,” Josh said. “Waffles are the best.”

Ryan had the energy to feign offense. “No, fuck that dude, pancakes.”

“I only like your pancakes,” Josh said nonchalantly. Ryan, though, sputtered and tried to think of something intelligent to say to that. Josh smirked when he saw how flustered Ryan was. Josh winked and said, “still got it.”

“Fuck you,” Ryan laughed, shaking his head. He felt a lot better after being able to cry his fucking eyes out at the station. He felt a little lighter and a little more at ease. Crying that hard in a public place was usually a decent form of catharsis. Public ventilation of emotion was already pretty effective. “God, Josh, Halsey was already mad at me about being your ex. Don’t make it worse for me.”

“Oh my god, she got mad?” Josh giggled. “That’s fucking adorable. Not in an insulting way, I mean. Just, it’s cool that she’s jealous. That I’m someone worth being jealous over. Or is that envious?”

Ryan snorted. “It’s jealousy. You know, I was a little jealous, too. Still am. Suddenly Halsey has all your time, and I come home to an empty house. I’ve got my best friend going out and paint balling with his girl, and my soulmate is across the country, Gee and Frank are busy, Mikey’s falling apart and doesn’t want my help, and all Ray does is sleep…” He trailed off with a sigh. “I’m just jealous that she has you now. And that I don’t have you.”

Josh stared at Ryan with pursed lips as he listened. “… Are we talking sex, or…?”

“God, just companionship, you slut,” Ryan groaned. “I’m not some horny bastard. I don’t feel bad about jacking off and thinking about Brendon anymore. We’ve fucked. We’ve traded naughty pictures.”

“Have you had phone sex?” Josh asked. “Halsey and I have.”

Ryan frowned. “When the hell have you two been apart?”

“We haven’t,” Josh snickered. “She was my bedroom and I was in the tub. Not, like, showering. The water wasn’t even running. I just took my pants off in the tub and jacked off. It was a religious experience, Ryan. Ten out of ten, would recommend.”

“You horny fuck,” Ryan deadpanned.

Josh smirked. “… Does it really both you? That I don’t hang out with you as much?”

Ryan shrugged and looked down at his napkin. He started to fold the napkin over a couple times, and realized the Mythbusters were right: it was impossible to casually fold paper more than seven times. “I just miss the days when you were always there for me. When you could look at me for a split second and know something was wrong. When you could read my mind and finish my sentences and-”

“Make you cum your brains out,” Josh interrupted with a stupid grin. Ryan rolled his eyes, but smiled anyway. “I’m serious, Ryan. Orgasms totally help with stress. I know we’ve talked about this, we’ve totally talked about this. It’s not gonna make me change my mind.”

“That was back when I didn’t have my soulmate, and he wasn’t even close to legal,” Ryan reminded him.

Josh groaned.

“Let’s talk about something else,” Ryan said.

Josh nodded slowly. “I think Halsey has a vomit kink.”

“Okay, that’s not how we start a conversation.”

Josh laughed and tore the bottom of his straw, blowing through the straw itself and hitting Ryan in the face with the rest of the wrapper. “I don’t know what else you want me to say!” Josh exclaimed, grinning. “You wanted a conversation, here’s my conversation. Beggars can’t be choosers, asshole.”

“I don’t want to talk about your girlfriend’s supposed vomit kink,” Ryan said.

Josh laughed harder, their waitress arrived, and Ryan started to feel a little more okay again.

. . .

Ryan answered his phone in the middle of the mandatory nap Josh had given him. Josh was curled up at Ryan’s side, but luckily was a much harder sleeper, and slept right through Ryan’s ring tone. Ryan answered without looking at the name, and smiled when he heard Patrick’s voice, until Patrick said, _”Look, I’m sorry to bother you, but I really need a favor.”_ Ryan didn’t mind giving favors. Ryan just didn’t know if he was a very reliable person these days.

“What do you need?” Ryan asked anyways, keeping his voice down so he wouldn't wake Josh.

_“I, uh, I need a place to stay.”_

Ryan looked at the wall and very slowly brought his brain back up to speed. “Are… are you okay?”

Patrick sighed heavily. _“Not gonna lie, Ryan, I was in a car accident.”_

Ryan sat up sharply and started to look for his pants. “Are you okay?” he asked with wild concern, getting ready to get out the door and find Patrick, wherever he was. It was the weekend. He could make a drive. 

_“I’m totally okay, just broke my leg,”_ Patrick said. _“And wherever you think you’re going, stop. I’m totally fine. Just listen to me before you do anything, okay?”_

Ryan stopped reaching for his pants, but he took stock of where they were, just in case.

_“I was driving to my parents, saw them for the weekend, but the I fucked up. I was trying to merge into a lane at the same time as someone else and got run off the road. Totaled the car, broke my leg, but that was the worst of it. And I kinda don’t have anyone to take care of me back at our LA place, so I was wondering if I could maybe stay with you guys and we could keep this on the down low and away from Pete’s ears.”_

“Why don’t you wanna tell Pete?” Ryan asked. He wasn’t sure if he was very comfortable with lying to his friend. 

_“Then he’d leave the tour,”_ Patrick told him. _“Which isn’t in either of our best interests. He’s following Brendon around for his first couple tours to help keep Brendon’s senses about himself without you. And he’s also fielding press and shit. He’s making all these decisions for Brendon and talking Brendon through them so Brendon can make them for himself in the future. He’s teaching Brendon a lot, Ryan, and we shouldn’t put an end to this. It’s a good thing, Ryan. We’ve got to encourage it, but if Pete finds out that I’m partially and temporarily crippled, he’ll come back from the tour and Brendon will be left to fend for himself.”_

Ryan winced, knowing Patrick was raising a really good point. He hadn’t necessarily been aware of how Pete had been teaching and helping Brendon, but he definitely believed that was a thing that Pete was doing. Pete was passionately supportive like that. He put his everything into one person at a time and couldn’t be deterred unless it was, like, a major medical emergency. Or Patrick.

_“I just don’t want him to leave the tour, and if I go to my parents, they’d definitely spill the beans, so I’m asking for this favor, Ryan. Just, I’ll make up an excuse, I’ll tell all the lies, I’ll handle everything, I just need a place to stay until the tour’s over where Pete won’t be pissed at me once he finds out because I apparently stayed somewhere that didn’t meet his standards. You meet his standards, Ryan, which is why I’m asking you first.”_

Ryan smirked a bit. “Are you trying to flatter me and butter me up?”

Patrick chuckled into the receiver. _“Maybe a little. Why? Is it working?”_

“Do you need me to drive or something? Come get you?”

 _“I’ll take a flight,”_ Patrick said. _“They’ve got good aid for cripples and shit. I’ll just need someone to pick me up from the airport if that’s okay?”_

“Sure. Can I ask about the leg? Like, how broken is it?”

Patrick groaned. _“Cast all the way up my fucking thigh, man. I’m in a god damn wheelchair.”_

Ryan’s heart clenched a little. He kinda hated how his friends were getting hurt so often. He wondered if this was, like, normal for the world, if people got hurt this often and this randomly in life, or if it was just Ryan’s friends. He would buy either one of those. “I can pick you up,” he said. “Don’t have classes until Monday.”

 _“Classes?”_ Ryan could hear a frown coming from Patrick. _“What classes? Are you back in school?”_

Ryan faltered. “Pete didn’t tell you?”

_“Pete didn’t tell me what?”_

Ryan sighed. “I’m a teacher. A Professor. I work at UCLA and teach psychology. I, I like to think I’m pretty okay it, so far. It’s only the first week, but I’m not fucking terrible or anything. And there are good kids and I’m enjoying it, I think. It gives me something to do. I love having something to do.”

_“You’d be a good teacher, so long as you realize that mostly everyone doesn’t know all the shit you do.”_

Ryan nodded his agreement. “Yeah, yeah, it’s a bit of a struggle to understand that, but I think I’ve got it.” He felt Josh stir and groan beside him and wondered how Josh hadn’t woken up when Ryan had nearly jolted out of bed. “I, uh I’ve gotta go. Text me the details on your flight, okay? I’ll come get you.”

 _“Thanks, Ryan,”_ Patrick said. _“This means a lot.”_

Ryan was smiling even after he hung up because of that.

. . .

Ryan realized he’d picked people up from the airport only twice in his lifetime before this. Getting Mikey, getting Brendon, and now getting Patrick. It was weird, and he wasn’t sure if it was significant in anyway, but it was still something he noticed.

“God, I hate LAX,” Josh said from beside Ryan. He’d insisted on coming along for moral support. Ryan was catching an inkling towards his confession of feeling alone without Josh had stuck with the other man and caused him to become a little more attached just to make up for things that Ryan honestly wasn’t as bothered about as he’d sounded. But still, Ryan really appreciated the company and the help, especially since Patrick’s entire leg was in a cast. He had no idea how to get a wheelchair into the car, let alone Patrick. Patrick wasn’t entirely worthless, but Ryan was still at a loss as to how this was going to work. Ryan drove a fucking sedan. He didn’t have room for half of his family.

“There are so many people,” Josh said. “So many planes. Like cattle getting shipped around the world. These planes and airports, Ryan? They’ll bring about the end of the world. Spread the zombie virus like a plague.”

“Let’s try not to be cynical about this,” Ryan said. “Don’t make me paranoid about being in a public place. I already have issues with leaving the fucking house, aside from school.”

“Well, of course you do,” Josh hummed. “You could fucking pass out at any time.” Josh paused. “… Wait, why are you driving?”

Ryan laughed and pulled up to the curb of the pick up area. He scanned the crowd for Patrick, realizing this would be difficult. Patrick was already pretty fucking short, and now he would be in a wheelchair. Ryan had no idea how he was going to find him.

“Is that him?” Josh asked, sitting up in his seat and getting his entire fucking torso out of the goddamn window, Jesus Christ. “Patrick!” Josh shouted, waving wildly. “Patrick mother fucking Stump! Your chariot! She awaits thee!”

“Josh, don’t fall!” Ryan cried out in a panic, reaching out to hold onto the back of Josh’s shirt, even though the car was in park and they weren’t even on an actual road. Ryan was very conscious of Josh getting hurt. He didn’t want Halsey to get mad with him about random bruises she found on Josh’s body that she hadn’t put there herself. “God, fuck, Joshy, just stay in the fucking car.” He looked out into the crowd again and was surprised when he actually did see Patrick, struggling to wheel himself closer. Of course Patrick would turn down one of the employees offering to help. Patrick was often too proud for his own good.

Josh came back in through the window and went out the door, like a normal person would, and scrambled to Patrick’s aid, grinning and greeting him like a ball of sunshine. He went up behind the chair and pushed it along, not taking no for an answer, even as Patrick protested by crossing his arms over his chest and grumbling curse words under his breath.

Ryan got out of the car and opened one of the back passenger doors, worrying his lower lip as he fretted over what to do.

“We’ll just fold the wheelchair up,” Patrick said before Ryan could verbalize how badly he was freaking out. “My bags can go in the back, I’ll hold the wheelchair to the side— it’s not a problem, Ryan. Calm your tits.”

“Patrick should sit in the front,” Josh chimed in. Ryan nodded his agreement. The front had a lot more leg room. Patrick shrugged and seemed okay with it. Ten minutes of suitcase Tetris later, and they were heading home.

. . .

Ryan went to bed pretty quickly after getting Patrick settled and was a little surprised to find Josh in his bed again.

“You need a friend,” Josh told him. “Especially now. Tomorrow’s Sunday, and we’ll have a family meeting about your narcolepsy, but for now, you’re gonna have me glued to your side.”

“Until Halsey shows up,” Ryan added as stipulation.

Josh frowned, and Ryan hadn’t expected that.

“Dude,” Josh huffed. “My love for you doesn’t have rules and shit. Halsey’s my girlfriend and I love her so much. And you’re my best friend and kinda the reason I’m still getting through this life. You’re the reason I was around to even meet her, dude. So, like, she’s definitely the love of my life. But she’s not the end of my love for you.”

Ryan was confused. “What kind of love are we talking about?”

Josh shrugged. “Familial, I guess.”

“You guess?” Ryan repeated, a little alarmed. “I-I’m with Brendon, Josh…”

“Jesus, dude,” Josh chuckled. “You and I aren’t a thing. But we were. So we’re gonna be a little closer than most friends are. Like, if Gerard and Frank and Ray and Mikey traded boyfriends for the day. They’d be a lot closer in a lot of different ways. And it’s not like we can just pretend what we had never happened. You and I fucked. A lot. So you and I are gonna be pretty damn close for the rest of our lives. Like exes that managed to stay friends and share an apartment.”

“That’s not recommended,” Ryan told him.

“Well, we never fell in love, did we?” Josh smiled a bit. “You and I? We’re so fucking special. And I’m not gonna let anyone get in between us. Halsey’s got my left. You’ve got my right. That’s how it’ll always be. Speaking of which, at the wedding? You and Tyler are gonna have to fight to the death over being my best man.”

Ryan snorted and finally dropped into bed. Josh put an arm over Ryan’s shoulder and Ryan soaked in the warmth. He found himself wishing it was Brendon for a split second, but was still happy that it was Josh.

. . .

_“Ryan!” Brendon hissed, eyes wide. “Travis, he… he keeps touching me.”_

_Ryan sat up in the bed, alarmed, because one, it wasn’t Josh beside him, and two, it was Brendon instead, and Brendon was freaking out. Ryan tensed and looked to Brendon, wanting him to continue._

_“It’s never bad,” Brendon murmured, looking down at the covers. Ryan wondered if he could feel that Josh was in his spot in another world. “He puts his hand on my lower back, he runs his hands through my hair, he kisses my cheek…”_

_“Does he know you have a soulmate?” Ryan asked._

_Brendon bit his lip. Then he shook his head._

_Ryan was more than a little crushed._

_“Pete doesn’t want people to know I have a soulmate,” Brendon explained. “He says it makes me more appealing to teens and listeners if they can imagine themselves with me. Giving me a soulmate could make them feel guilty for their desire for me and turn them off to me and my music completely.” It sounded like Brendon was reading out of a textbook. “He wants me to not be public about my soulmate.”_

_“My name is Ryan,” Ryan whispered_

_Brendon looked to Ryan, a little alarmed. “I-I know that.”_

_Ryan nodded._

_“He just touches me and I don’t know what to say,” Brendon sighed. “I mean, he’s friendly. I-I like friendly. But I feel guilty about it. I’m not against what he’s doing, I’m against that it’s happening to me. I feel guilty a-and I don’t like it, so I thought I should tell you. Pete said I should tell you. Because he doesn’t want me to tell Travie about you, since he could tell someone else, and they’d tell someone else, and that just doesn’t work.”_

_“So you’re, what?” Ryan asked. “Confessing?”_

_Brendon shrugged. Then nodded._

_“Like in a catholic church,” Ryan continued slowly, trying to understand. “You think that by coming to me and telling me what you’ve done, or what you’re not doing, you’ll be forgiven? Is that what this is?”_

_Brendon bit his lip. “Something like that.”_

_Ryan was more than a little offended, but God, Brendon didn’t understand. Brendon couldn’t understand. He was stunted and still figuring out how emotions and people worked. He didn’t know how hurtful subtle actions could be, regardless of how long he’d been muddling through the average side of life. And it wasn’t like this had ever been a problem. Before Brendon going off on his own, Brendon had only ever been around Ryan’s personal circle of family for anything longer than a few hours. Now Brendon was being exposed to all these new people that Ryan didn’t know, and certainly didn’t trust, and Brendon had fucking Pete, of all people, to give him advice. Pete, who seemed a lot more concerned about Brendon’s image than Ryan would like.  
“Just don’t know what to do,” Brendon mumbled, leaning into Ryan. “Because… I kinda like it.”_

_Ryan didn’t know what to do except for have a serious conversation with Pete._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> www.wellthisisprettyrisque.tumblr.com


	5. Are Those the City Lights or a Wildfire Ahead of Us?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> get ready for a time warp after this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooooo i had to beta on my own this week (cause my precious beta is swamped and i'm not a slave driver) so if you see any outstanding typos please let me know? i'm bad at rereading my own stuff. my brain just kinda fixes it without my noticing. it's bad.
> 
> thanks :)

_“I’m not sure what the problem is,”_ Pete said with what had to be innocence written all over his face, blatant enough to make Ryan angry. _“You don’t really understand how complex show business is. You don’t get what I have to go through to get Brendon’s name out there. I have to make him desirable.”_

“He is desirable,” Ryan said, his grip on the phone so tight at his knuckles were white. He was so fucking pissed. “Brendon is the most fucking desirable thing in this whole god damn world, and you’re confusing him, Pete, you’re fucking confusing him!”

 _“Just because he doesn’t know how to handle a little flirtatious touching doesn’t mean he’s confused.”_ Pete sounded exasperated and it was making Ryan even more upset, like Pete didn’t understand why Ryan was asking Pete to get Travie to fucking stop. Pete defended. _“He could very well like Travie a lot! He loves attention, he likes Travie, and he hasn’t once said anything against it! You even told me that he said he likes it! I don’t get what the fucking problem is, aside from you being a jealous asshole who can’t handle letting Brendon have his own fucking life!”_

Ryan hung up on instinct when Pete started yelling, then cursed himself for being such a fucking coward. He stared at his phone, debating on whether or not to call Pete back. But Pete made the decision for him. 

“I’m sorry,” Ryan mumbled once he answered. 

_“No, I’m sorry,”_ Pete sighed. _“I know you hate yelling. I shouldn’t have gotten so pissed. I just… I’ve been getting to know Brendon, Ryan. Getting to know who he is when you’re not around, which is a side of Brendon you will never know,”_ and okay, that fucking stung. _“He’s almost a different kid when you’re not around, and it’s not a bad thing, okay? He’s more confident. A little less in your face and pushy, and he’s a good fucking kid and an even better showman. Have you watched any of his performances?”_

“I try not to,” Ryan admitted. 

_“You should,”_ Pete said. _“He’s like a butterfly coming out of the cocoon up there, Ryan, he flourishes. And you need to let him be himself. He’s gonna do some fucking amazing things that he can’t do if you’re holding the leash too tightly. And getting to know other people and experiencing all these different things is the best way for him to become who he needs to be. But he can’t do that if you’re calling me with every little concern you have, like an overprotective parent.”_

Ryan’s jaw clenched. “… I’ll talk to you later, Pete. Thanks for picking up. Tell Brendon I…” He faltered. “… That’s probably a little too controlling.” 

_“It’s fine, Ry,”_ Pete said. _“You’re allowed to love him. You just shouldn’t smother him. He doesn’t need you like he used to.”_

Ryan hung up for good this time. 

. . .

“Have you ever had a C-T scan before?” Travis asked. He was bustling around the room in an iron apron or something equally heavy and protective while Josh, Gerard, and Frank all waited behind the glass window that showed into the next room. Mikey had volunteered to stay home for Patrick and Ray, confident he could handle both men since Ray was going to sleep all day and Patrick was stubbornly independent. Ryan shook his head to Travis’s question, trying not to show how nervous he was about the giant fucking machine in the room.  Travis nodded. “The contrast stuff tastes awful— would you rather have an IV?”

“Any day,” Ryan replied. He preferred an IV over a lot of things. If he could spend the rest of his life getting nutrients and shit from an IV, he would. Eating and drinking didn’t bring him any sort of joy these days. “I’ll take the IV.”

Travis snorted. “You’re the first person to say that.” Ryan wasn’t surprised. Travis got his nurse friend— a girl named Meghan— to plug Ryan up with the contrast solution, and then they both steered Ryan to the CT machine. He felt more than a little ridiculous in the hospital smock, worried about his ass hanging out for Josh and Frank and Gee to snicker at. His friends had been pretty emotionally supportive, but Ryan didn’t put anything past them when there was a wall separating their sound waves. He was happy the nurses had insisted on all phones being confiscated (for radiation, probably, or something like that), meaning there would be no trading of photos that depicted Ryan with his skinny pale legs and white-as-fuck ass. He knew the smock was tied correctly, but he was still paranoid. The foreign breeze between his legs was just too nice to mean anything good about his current decency. 

“Think you can lie down on your own?” Travis asked with a smirk.

“Thanks, mom,” Ryan said with a roll of his eyes. “Not even sure why you’re in here with me. I am an adult. Adults do this alone all the time.”

“We want to analyze the stressors of your brain that come in with dreaming,” Travis said. “Meaning we don’t want any outlying causes to skew any data. Make this as close to your brain on a normal night as much as possible, which includes making sure that you’re not insanely stressed about anything during the test. And since you’re an anxious guy, I gotta keep you from getting too stressed.” Travis smirked and pat Ryan on the shoulder. “Make sense, big guy?”

“Fuck you,” Ryan grumbled as he lied down on the uncomfortable plastic slab and waited for the machine to start. The nurse went behind the glass with the others, but Travis stayed in the room with him. The machine started to move, and an angry red light stared Ryan down from above. Ryan was suddenly grateful for Travis’s presence. 

“Just stay absolutely still,” Travis murmured, reaching out of Ryan’s line of sight to hit a switch that turned the red light a softer, more pleasant purple that kinda let Ryan feel like he was maybe hallucinating. Then the light continued to change, phasing through all the colors of the rainbow, and yeah, this was the most relaxed Ryan had felt in months.

“What the hell was in that IV?” Ryan asked softly, almost sluggishly. He loved watched the colors phase.

“Literally just contrast,” Travis snorted from the outside of the machine. “You need to get high more often, Ross. When was the last time you ate?”

“Yesterday at lunch,” Ryan murmured.

Travis nodded. “Good man. You shouldn’t be experiencing any sort of mental or physical inebriation, aside from the hunger, so I’m pretty sure that’s all this is.” Ryan’s stomach growled tellingly, and Travis laughed at him. “You’ve got a one track mind, Ross. Well, two track— Brendon and food. And maybe other people.” Travis paused. “Actually, you’ve got a conglomerate of tracks in your head, but that doesn’t sound as demeaning, in a friendly way.”

“I’m gonna throw up,” Ryan said because he was so hungry. It didn’t hit him until it had been brought up. “Am I gonna have to do this every time?” he asked. “I’m already so fucking skinny, Travis. You’re gonna kill me through malnutrition, or whatever you call it.”

“Starvation,” Travis supplied, sounding like he didn’t care. Ryan wouldn't put that past him. “The word you’re looking for is starvation, you dumbass. And I’m not gonna fucking you kill through necessary fasting before a C-T scan. If I wanted to kill you, I’d choose method a lot more reliable and less damning for myself. Like using the icicle that every swears is the best way to kill someone. Or poison your coffee.” Travis chuckled. “Maybe I’d just stab you in the heart. Get it over with, nice and easy.”

“You’re sweet,” Ryan drawled.

“Shut up,“ Travis ordered, though he didn’t say it harshly. “The scan is starting.”

Ryan shut his mouth, and then his eyes. Staying still was easier that way.

It lasted a couple minutes, maybe longer, Ryan couldn’t really tell. The machine was loud and would probably terrify a little kid if they heard it. He couldn’t imagine being, like, five and having to go through this. Not that a five year old should be sick enough to merit a CAT scan. Then again, the world was fucked. Ryan had little hope. 

The bed moved back out and Ryan startled, jumping harshly. He whipped hushed about, trying to figure out what was going on. 

“All done,” Travis said with a smirk. “Now get some real fucking clothes on.”

“Why are we even doing this?” Ryan asked, feeling a little sleepy after shutting his eyes for so long. “What do you wanna do this? No, not what— why.” His brain was all muddled up. “Why are we doing this?”

“Do you have any idea how special your head is?” Travis asked as he helped Ryan up off the slab. “Like, even the slightest clue?”

Ryan looked at Travis with empty confusion. 

“Jesus, dude,” Travis said, grinning a bit as he led out of the room. Josh and Gee both came forward with eager eyes, but quickly tapered the emotion down when they saw Travis was mid sentence. “Never, in the history of anything, has anyone ever sustained a physical injury from a soulmate dream.”

Ryan was lost for a moment, until Josh said, “Wait, do you mean when Brendon threw that rock at Ryan? Gave him a concussion.” Ryan frowned and his brow knit together. That had been years ago.

“Brendon isn’t like that anymore,” he said, ready to defend his soulmate, but Travis waved him off.

“I’m not accusing anyone of anything,” Travis said with a pointed look in Josh’s direction. “I’m just saying that that sort of thing has legitimately never, ever happened before. No one has even been physically affected by an event in the dreamscape outside of the dream itself. Maybe there are a few lingering feelings of pleasure and shit if you get it on, but there’s never been a legitimate mark in someone’s skull.”

Ryan automatically reached up to where he’d been hit so long ago and felt his blood run cold when his fingers found a dent.

“There’s never been a lasting effect!” Travis continued, becoming a little excited. “What happened to Ryan is literally an anomaly, almost a fucking miracle of science! And we have no explanation for any of what happened to him, and god, I would fucking love to just cut into your head and see what’s different.”

Josh looked alarmed. “What? You can’t do that.”

Travis waved Josh off, flapping his hand in Josh’s face like he wanted to use the Force to shut him up. “Ryan’s head and dreams are fucking amazing. There are so many possible explanations, and it could be one of two things to begin with— either Brendon’s dreaming ability is so fucking strong that he’s able to alter things outside of the dreamscape, or Ryan’s so invested in Brendon and Brendon’s very existence that his body can be altered by Brendon’s actions.”

Both of those possibilities equally terrified Ryan. He stood there in his revealing hospital gown and tried to not have a fucking panic attack, because if Ryan’s body was so hopelessly connected to Brendon’s, then what hope did he have for having a future with Brendon away? He would always be brought under by force, would probably start falling unconscious whenever Brendon fell asleep naturally again, and what would happen when Brendon crossed a timezone and suddenly was going to bed when Ryan should be waking up? What was going to happen when Brendon toured in fucking China or somewhere, and his night and day were switched, and Ryan had to switch with him? Ryan’s entire life had the possibility of being ruined, and Ryan couldn’t do anything about it.

“Ryan, Ryan, sit down,” Gerard was suddenly saying into Ryan’s ear, a hand to Ryan’s chest as he maneuvered Ryan off the linoleum and into a chair. Ryan gasped for breath and realized that his lungs were fucking empty. He scrambled for purchase, needing to hold onto something to solidify himself, but he also really wanted to have something soft under his fingertips to touch and comfort himself. He remembered reading about plushes being given to younger kids with anxiety attacks. He wondered if it would help.

He came back to himself again and realized he was now sitting on the floor, apparently having slipped out of the chair, and Ryan knew he was a disaster, but this was ridiculous. Couldn’t even sit in a fucking chair. His ass and balls were cold on the floor and he fucking hated hospital regulation clothing. He was an adult male, for the love of fuck, he should be able to wear smocks with pants to protect his dignity. Ryan closed his legs just to be safe, because he was definitely not going to flash anyone in the middle of a panic attack in the middle of a god damn, motherfucking hospital over something sos stupid as loving another person a little too much.

“You back, Ry?” Frank asked with a gentleness he so rarely used. “We’re gonna try and get you off the floor and into some real clothes. Sound good?”

“I can do it,” Ryan said, though his words came out stiff because his mouth felt dry and wide, like it was full of cotton balls. “I can do it,” he repeated anyways, wetting his lips and standing on wobbly, unreliable legs. He shuffled his feet forward a few times, taking stock of Gerard on his left, Josh on his right, and realizing that he hadn’t felt this supported in ages. Felt like having crutches that wouldn’t let him down or make fun of him. They helped him get into the changing room, and Josh even went as far as joining Ryan inside.

Ryan frowned at him.

“I don’t want you falling over and knocking your head,” Josh told him. “I’ll turn around if it makes you feel better, though it isn’t anything I haven’t seen before.”

“You’re an ass,” Ryan grumbled, feeling tired. He dropped the smock from his shoulders and Josh let out this startled noise. “What?” Ryan asked with a deeper frown. He was feeling defensive after nearly passing out on the floor. Hadn’t even talk it over yet.

Josh reached out and brushed Ryan’s collarbone with two fingertips. “I can see this a lot better than usual,” Josh said. “You need to eat more.”

Ryan grimaced and reigned in another sarcastic comment because he knew Josh was right. “Just been a little busy with school and stuff. I forget to eat lunch when I’m at work, and then I get home and have to deal with other things, and it’s all just a mess.”

“Should I start visiting in for lunch again?” Josh asked, genuinely concerned. 

Ryan shook his head. “Jon Walker is gonna be done with his meetings and stuff. He’s the guy who’s supposed to shadow me and make sure I adapt well. He’ll have lunch with me, I think. He’s nice, Josh.” Ryan started to pull on his pants, stepping into the first leg with unsteadiness. “You’d like it.” Ryan swayed a bit too much at the second leg and started to fall. Josh caught him with one hand around Ryan’s upper arm, and another planted firmly on his chest. “Jesus,” Ryan breathed, a wave of nausea crashing over him like drowning. 

“Let me help,” Josh said, reaching down while his eyes were turned upwards to help tug Ryan’s pants up past his bony hips. Ryan knew that Josh knew Ryan’s body better than anyone, aside from Brendon, but he still appreciated the gesture of protecting Ryan’s modesty. Ryan already felt humiliated with how his entire body was failing him— Josh was handling him with kid gloves, and it was what Ryan needed right now, even if he was loath to admit so. 

“Thanks,” Ryan mumbled once Josh was done before he managed to pull his shirt over his head on his own without suffering a dizzy spell. “I don’t…”

“What happened, Ry?” Josh asked gently. Ryan shook his head.

“I just… I had this huge moment of complete fear,” Ryan began, looking anywhere but Josh. “Because I realized that I will never, ever be able to live a normal life unless Brendon is with me at all times. And that… that he can control me, Josh. To an extent. He can hurt me with his fucking mind in the dreams. What do I do about that? I am completely powerless while he can easily ruin my life without even meaning to!”

“God, Ryan,” Josh breathed. “You can’t think like that. It’s too hopeless.”

“I am hopeless!”

Josh shook his head. “You’re not, okay? You’ve got all this fucking potential that should be utilized and grown upon, and you can totally do that if you keep your head up and fight back against whatever you can.”

“God, I’m gonna end up broken,” Ryan said, his hands starting to shake again, vision swimming, starting to feel like he could pass out again. He looked around for somewhere to sit, but then realized that that was probably a bad idea, because he wouldn’t get back up again. “I need to talk to Travis. About the narcolepsy. Figure out what to do at school.”

“You’re not alone,” Josh said, like he had nothing better to say. Ryan appreciated it, he really fucking did, but it didn’t help. He wished he could tell Josh that knowing he wasn’t alone would fix everything, but he couldn’t lie, especially not when he felt so sick. “You’ve always got us, Ryan. You’ve always got your family. Even if…” Josh didn’t finish.

Ryan looked to him. “Even if what?”

Josh bit his lip. “… Even if Brendon isn’t a part of that family anymore. We always will be.”

Ryan was too tired to be angry about that. “Brendon will always be with me,” he said instead of starting a fight. “He will always be my soulmate and I will always love him more than anything in the world. Got it?” He left a challenge in his tone. If Josh wanted to continue to insist that Brendon was going to leave, Ryan was going to let Josh know that he wasn’t going to take that bullshit anymore. 

Josh sighed. “Got it.”

Ryan brushed past him with a hand on Josh’s shoulder to get outside.

Travis was waiting with prints of Ryan’s brain.

“Got what you need?” Ryan asked, gesturing to the images.

“The nurses don’t know what to look for,” Travis explained. “I do, but I need the right images and documents. Gimme a week, until our next scan— then I’ll be able to tell you something. I’ll have two cross references and shit, really be able to see whats up. It’s a process, Ryan, and I honestly can’t even promise that I’ll find something. But at least we’re trying.”

Ryan nodded. 

“And, uh, I talked to the school,” Travis added. “They’re open to suggestions.”

“Suggestions for what?”

“For how to accommodate your temporary disability,” Travis explained. “I mean, you’re not actually disabled, but that’s how they’re labeling it for simplicity’s sake. They’re completely willing to work with you.”

Ryan just let out this breath and tried not to freak out. “What do they have in mind?”

Travis shrugged. “I don’t know. I was think you could pick up a student as a TA.”

Ryan immediately had someone in mind.

“What would they do?” he asked warily, not wanting to throw a poor kid under the bus with workload and responsibility when they already had other classes to attend on their own time. He couldn’t put that kind of pressure on a kid without a huge hit to his own conscious. 

“Honestly, in this case? Added credits for whatever just for following you around and making sure you made it through your classes. They’d check in one you between class periods and help you in whatever class sessions they have free. Normally you’d have two or three TAs for different classes to handle workload, but since this wouldn’t be workload at all, and focusing mostly on physical aid and being there in case something should happen, you only really need one. It’ll be a pretty easy set up— you can even choose a student to nominate for the role and stuff if they are okay with it.”

Ryan nodded, making a mental note. He didn’t know any of his students well, but he knew the one that stood out to him.

“Wait, you’re cool with that?” Travis checked, sounding surprised. “Totally had expected you to put up a fight, you stubborn asshole.”

Ryan rolled his eyes and nudged Travis’s shoulder. “Dick.”

Travis smirked a bit, but there was a lingering worry in his eyes. “Go home and get some sleep, Ryan,” he said firmly, not leaving room for him or anyone to argue. “You need to get some sleep.”

. . .

Ryan stared at the wall of his bedroom and tried to fall asleep. He had classes tomorrow and it was already so late. Brendon hadn’t dragged him under, and Ryan could only surmise that to be a good thing, though it always made him wonder what Brendon could possibly be doing at three in the fucking AM. Though maybe it was even later than that wherever Brendon was.

Ryan’s heart ached. Actually, bodily ached. Like a gaping hole with nerve endings that throbbed with absence and agony. He was sure something could fill this hole, maybe drugs or alcohol or violence, because that was generally the most common coping device people exhibited after loss. Hundreds of thousands of people couldn’t be wrong, right? But hundreds of thousands of people could also be pretty stupid, and Ryan liked to think he wasn’t stupid most of the time. He took in a deep breath before reaching out for his laptop in the dark and powering it up.

The light from the screen illuminated Patrick, who was sleeping peacefully and quietly beside Ryan. It was nice to have a semi-permanent addition to his bed. It had been amazing to sleep with Josh the past night, just to have that warmth beside him, a living body that he could always turn to should his toes get cold or his head become full of monsters. Having Patrick here wasn’t all that different, except he knew Patrick wouldn’t laugh it off if Ryan’s preteen self made a reappearance and he woke up with morning wood. Patrick would probably freak out a little and fall out of bed. He was a squirrely guy when it came to a body that wasn’t Pete’s.

Ryan pulled up whatever streaming device displayed the first video that went with the keyword Ryan had plugged into google. He felt a sense of lonely relief when he saw Brendon’s face fill the screen, bright and colorful from the stage lights, smiling and sweating a little. He shone like a star in the middle of a sea of tar, and Ryan would’ve given anything to run his fingers through Brendon’s hair and kiss him like he owned him.

But to own someone was psychologically disturbing, and Pete wouldn’t like it. Pete wanted Brendon’s image to remain unattached and available for fantasizing fans that brought in the highest amount of revenue with their feverish consumption of goods in the hope of being noticed as the one true fan that would gain the appreciation of the star. Ryan couldn’t blame him for that. Brendon was something otherworldly and regal, a thing to be coveted. If you didn’t lay claim soon, someone else would, but every instinct in Ryan’s logical brain told him that claiming Brendon was literally the worst thing he could do. 

Brendon had been basically caged for a good portion of his young life, kept in one room, in one house, in one tiny section of the world with the threat of pain if he ever tried to leave. Brendon was only just now discovering _the world_ , and if Ryan tried to own him and claim him as Ryan’s, Brendon would be robbed of the freedom he needed to experience everything. Ryan couldn’t take that away from him. He just… he couldn’t.

As he listened to Brendon since, Ryan found himself singing along. He barely knew the words because he’d avoided Brendon’s music like nothing else. He hated to be reminded of the beautiful voice that he could no longer hear in person. It was like being shown pictures and audio and even, like, scent samples of his favorite place in the fucking world, and then being told he couldn’t even buy plane tickets to visit. 

Ryan watched the way Brendon’s whole body soaked in the crowd’s screams, the energy of the fans, the way his hips moved like he knew what he was doing to everyone watching. Ryan blushed faintly when Brendon hit a certain note that was a bit too breathy to be normal while thrusting his crotch subtly to the beat, and Ryan realized that he was basically watching a type of porn that was specialized for him. But then Ryan realized that tons of other people had probably gotten off on the same footage. He pictured boys and girls, nameless faces touching themselves and imaging making Brendon theirs, and a swell of jealousy twisted his heart into something ugly. He wanted to hurt anyone that tried to take Brendon, but god, he couldn’t, because Brendon wasn’t fucking his. 

Ryan’s entire body was tense and beginning to shake from the strain. He was angry. He was so fucking angry. At Brendon, at the fans, at Pete— god, fucking Pete. Pete would never ask this of anyone aside from Brendon, because Brendon was the only person young and impressionable enough to agree. Brendon didn’t have to be single to get fans. Brendon just had to be himself, but now people were thinking Brendon didn’t have a soulmate, didn’t have an inhibitions or ties to anyone, could fuck whoever he wanted and do whatever he wanted with fucking anyone, and Ryan was mad. He was so fucking mad and the emotion wasn’t going away.

“God, it’s like you wanna set something on fire.”

Ryan shut his eyes to try and calm down after pausing the video. “… Have you heard what Pete’s doing?” he asked Patrick, keeping his voice as steady and controlled as he possibly could.

“What’s Pete doing?” Patrick asked sleepily, stirring a bit and turning to face Ryan, squinting in the artificial light of the screen. “Are you watching Brendon preform? He’s like fire, dude. Definitely getting bigger with every day. Pete has him on a few talk shows coming up, kinda disappointed I’m going to miss them.”

“Pete’s not letting Brendon come out and say he has a soulmate because Pete thinks Brendon will sell more records if everyone thinks he’s single.”

Patrick stared at Ryan for a long moment.

Another moment later, and Patrick was yelling at Pete over the phone. 

“You don’t just fucking shove a god damn soulmate under the rug, especially when that person is one of your fucking best friends!” Patrick snapped, angrier than Ryan had been, which was a little reassuring. At least Ryan knew he wasn’t wrong to be so fucking pissed. “Brendon fucking Urie needs to have the right to decide if he wants people to know about Ryan or not, and not you, Pete! Because to me, it sounds like you’ve only got an eye on the fucking money and nothing else, you selfish piece of crap!”

There was a pause where Patrick was listening intently, probably wanting to hear Pete’s side because Pete was still his own soulmate, and Patrick probably hated disagreeing with Pete and fighting with him, even if Patrick hardly ever got angry like this unless it was completely justified. Ryan just appreciated knowing that someone had his back. 

“I can’t believe you’re so fucking selfish,” Patrick said after listening. “You don’t even care about what this is doing to Brendon and Ryan. And okay, maybe Brendon seems pretty fucking okay with pretending to be single, but Ryan isn’t. Ryan’s over here fucking crying while watching videos of Brendon and cursing people for masturbating over his fucking soulmate and saying shit!”

Ryan frowned and brought a hand to his face. His fingers came back wet, and fuck, Ryan was such a fucking pussy.

“How do I know what Ryan’s saying?” Patrick repeated, his eyes going wide as he realized he was caught. Ryan looked to Patrick in alarm and his mind raced to help come up with some sort of excuse or lie, but Patrick probably didn’t want to lie, and god, Pete was going to be so fucking mad. “I know what Ryan’s saying because he fucking told me, Pete,” Patrick said, apparently deciding to go for the bare minimum of information. No direct lying. “Ryan talks to me when he can’t talk to you, and that’s not fucking okay, by the way. I can’t believe you’d do this to them! Either you fix this and let Brendon decide on his own, or I’m outing them myself before you can do anything about it!”

“Don’t do that,” Ryan whispered, his own eyes going wide. He didn’t want to risk Brendon being upset over suddenly being outed. That would be fucking awful and definitely damaging to their relationship, even if Patrick was the one to do it.

Patrick mouthed, “I’m not going to,” to Ryan before putting his mouth back to the receiver. “Pete, you have seriously fucked up,” he said, voice becoming so calm it was almost deadly. “And you need to fucking fix this before you seriously injure someone, specifically Ryan. Because Ryan’s got his own shit to deal with. He shouldn’t be scared for his relationship on top of everything.”

Ryan was struck with the thought that he was the root of all problems. This wouldn’t be an issue if Brendon didn’t have a jealous soulmate. People wouldn’t be bending over backwards to accommodate Ryan if he didn’t have narcolepsy. There wouldn't have been all that turmoil and awfulness back in university if Ryan had just managed to not be a piece of shit and a fucking burden, god dammit, and—

“Stop thinking,” Patrick hissed. “Fucking seriously, Ryan— you’re moping. It’s dumb.”

Ryan quickly shut off that train of thought and nodded his gratitude to Patrick.

“Pete, you better tell me your fucking plan to fix this by the end of the week, or you and I are going to have a serious problem. Got it?”

Patrick paused, listening. Then he sighed. “I love you too.”

Ryan’s heart went out to Patrick. It was never easy to fight with the people you love. Probably on Ryan’s list of the top three worst things in life. Patrick hung up and sighed, then tried to turn on his side, but the cast hindered that kind of movement. Ryan smiled wryly. “Want a hug?” he asked. Patrick pouted, but nodded.

Ryan set his laptop aside and shuffled down the bed to lie down and wrap Patrick up in a hug. “Thanks for helping me,” he said. “Sorry you guys fought.”

Patrick sighed and shook his head. “Honestly, I’m just shocked Pete would do something like this. He’d never ask anyone else to. If you guys were still in the band together, he wouldn’t even dare suggest it. Pete knows better than to suggest secrecy. It’s crazy, because he’s the last person that would ever suggest hiding the person you love, and yet here he is, telling Brendon to do so. It doesn’t make sense, Ryan. It doesn’t make sense that Pete would even dare suggest this.”

Ryan shook his head. “I don’t know either, but… A-at least he knows. I honestly didn’t put up much of a fight. I’m bad at fighting and defending myself most of the time. It’s kinda fucking dumb.”

Patrick shrugged. “You’re doing your best. You never were much of a fighter. More of the type to just accept the beating and curse the other person under your breath, which I don’t think is very smart, but you ain’t me, so I can’t do shut about it.”

Ryan grimaced. “I have classes to teach tomorrow morning… a TA to recruit.”

“That sounds fun,” Patrick said. 

“I hate myself for how I need Brendon,” Ryan said, deciding to get to the heart of what was keeping him awake. “And I hate that it’s all pretty fucking serious.”

“What do you mean?” Patrick asked with a frown.

“So, like, you know how Brendon and I have always been kinda weird?” Ryan asked. When Patrick nodded, he continued. “Turns out Brendon and I are a sort of anomaly among soulmates. He can actually alter the world inside our heads with enough severity that it carries over into the waking world. Like, he can hurt me in our heads and I’ll wake up with bruises and broken legs. And this is something that has never, ever been seen before. Also, the narcolepsy and stuff it pretty fucking uncommon. And basically, Brendon has the ability to actually alter me and my head and has such a strong hold on me that my body will quit literally everything just to get reconnected with him. And I have no way to stop this or fight back.”

Patrick let out a low whistle. “That’s fucking scary.”

Ryan shuddered and nodded. “It’s like… I will never, ever be able to have a normal life of my own.”

“Unless you get that dream ending surgery,” Patrick pointed out.

“And what? Trade the narcolepsy for seizures?” Ryan shook his head. “I would only get the surgery if Brendon wanted me to. Or if Brendon was going to get it for himself. I’d get it instead.”

“Why?” Patrick asked.

“Because I don’t want him to have the seizures and side effects,” Ryan said. “Brendon dreams bigger than me, and I want him to achieve those dreams. He wants stadium shows and shit. I just want a nice job and him. I can afford to have a few medical setbacks and still get by.”

“You’re addicted to Brendon,” Patrick said. “You’re like a dog with chocolate— you don’t care that it’ll kill you, you just want to devour it. Devour him. Not in a creepy, controlling way. You just need him to the point where it may kill you.”

“I don’t want to die, though,” Ryan said. “Because I know Brendon shouldn’t have to live without his soulmate. Don’t you feel this way for Pete?”

Patrick slowly narrowed his eyes as he thought. “… Shit, you’re right.”

Ryan managed a smile. “It’s pretty fucking messy, isn’t it?”

“This is all so stupid, and I’m tired,” Patrick said. “I’m just… can we go to sleep? Maybe you won’t dream, maybe you will— but it’s better than being awake and anxious, right?” Ryan nodded. They didn’t say anything for the rest of the night, but Ryan didn’t let go of Patrick either.

. . .

Ryan didn’t see Brendon that night. 

He went to UCLA feeling shaky and off, like his heart wasn’t beating correctly. He missed Brendon and almost wanted to watch more videos of Brendon onstage. He wanted to see Brendon’s face, even if it was a graphical figment. He just wanted to see Brendon’s brown eyes and remember what it was like to get lost in the real thing. 

He went to the uni with little hope for the rest of the day. He was even half sure that his TA candidate would reject his request because that was how Ryan’s luck tended to work out. He was totally going to drop unconscious today. That was seriously scheduled into his plan for the day.

He wasn’t excited for his classes when the first statement/question he got for the day went like this:

“I read somewhere on some site that I can’t name, that swaddling a baby after they’ve been alive for more than, like, four months increases their risk of death. What do you say to that?”

Ryan aptly responded, “Being fucking alive increases your risk of death, nut the fuck up and brace for it.”

He really hoped he wouldn’t get reported for that. The rest of the class laughed, so he assumed he wasn’t in too much trouble yet. Ryan got through it all anyways, having lunch on his own after a sincere apology from Jon in passing through the hall, then steeled himself for his final class of the day and wondered how he was going to do this.

“Kellin, I’d like to talk to you after class,” Ryan said before he could think of a less ominous and slightly threatening way to get the boy to talk to him. The poor kid’s eyes went wide and he looked really fucking freaked out, so Ryan just thumbed the tentative contract he’d been given this morning after visiting the office. It listed all the perks and shit Kellin would get from this, and Ryan had read it so many times since receiving it that he could recite the first page from memory. 

Class ended and Kellin didn’t get up from his seat, only stared at the notes he’d taken during class. Ryan realized that he was definitely going to have to handle this, so he got up with he contract and went to Kellin’s desk.

“You’re not in trouble,” was the first thing Ryan said, and Kellin looked so fucking relieved that it was surprising. “You’re not in any sort of trouble, I just have a proposition for you.” He sat down next to Kellin and lied out the four page contract. “This is a rudimentary draft, a proposal for you to become a sort of TA for me.”

Kellin looked from the paper to Ryan with a confused expression that was only made adorable with how large his eyes were and how pouty his lips could be. Jesus, this kid. “What do you need a TA for?” Kellin asked.

Ryan had totally prepared for this. “Due to circumstances happening with my soulmate, my narcolepsy has made a pretty abrupt return in my life,” he began, trying to sound as clinical and detached as possible. “The university has requested I bring in a TA that can keep an eye on me and make sure I make it between classes while also known the correct emergency numbers to call should I collapse. There will be no classwork or anything for you to be responsible, no students or tutoring sessions for you to be in charge of. You’ll just have a couple phone numbers to call should I need it, and sit in on a few classes that you have the free time to sit in for, where you’re free to do classwork pr study or really anything. It’s really simple.”

Kellin nodded slowly like he was assessing his options when there were really only two— yes or no. Ryan didn’t think this was too difficult of a commitment considering Ryan didn’t think Brendon was going to cross to the other side of the time zone any time soon. Ryan kinda would’ve appreciated this almost required time to study and do schoolwork without being tempted to do anything but that, but Ryan wasn’t Kellin and he had no idea what was going on in the kid’s life.

“I, I think I can do it,” Kellin said after a long moment of deliberation. “Could I try it out for maybe a week and see how I do?”

Ryan smiled a little and nodded. A tentative maybe was way better than a definite no, and Ryan was starting to learn to appreciate the smaller things that could very well make his day should he practice some addition and start to let the little things add up. At least, Ryan was trying to start thinking that way. It was an uphill process.

“Just let me know what you think,” he told Kellin. “And know that it will not, in any way, affect your grade if you find you can’t do it.” Kellin looked relieved again and Ryan felt pretty damn good about this. “Do you have any classes left for today?” Kellin shook his head. “Awesome,” Ryan said. “Why don’t you come join me for a dinner and we can talk this through?”

“Can I ask something of you?” Kellin posed, sounding wary and nervous all over again. Ryan nodded, keeping his expression patient. 

“So, since I might be doing this, is there, like…” Kellin threw his hands in the air like he was at a loss. “I just, I have a lot of questions. About depression and stuff. Medication, therapy, symptoms— so many questions, and I don’t really trust most sources on the internet to help me, and it also seems like you’ve got some sort of person experience with severe disorders, so I was wondering if I’d be able to ask you questions? And you’d answer them? Maybe?”

Ryan was a little surprised. He’d been expecting a request for payment or, like, three favors that Kellin could cash in on at a later date. He had his suspicions on what this was about. “Mind if I ask why?”

Kellin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “My soulmate has a lot of head problems that make it hard for him to get up in the morning. I’m from Michigan, but I moved here with my best friend to be with him, but most days he can’t even get up cause he’s just so… hopeless. And sad. And he won’t take the medication and stuff, so I’m here to figure out the best way to help him.”

Jesus christ, the fucking parallels.

“I’d be happy to help,” Ryan said. “God knows I would’ve given anything for advice back when I was in the same boat as you. Probably even the same age.”

Kellin smiled wryly. “Soulmates are crazy, huh?”

“So fucking insane.”

“But worth it,” Kellin added. “Definitely worth it.”

Ryan could only nod his agreement. “Lunch?”

Kellin grinned as he packed his bag, looking so much more eager to help Ryan once he knew he would be helped in return. Ryan was just happy to know that he wasn’t going to give his class a memory for therapy when he ultimately black out in the middle of a sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> www.wellthisisprettyrisque.tumblr.com


	6. This is the Bullet that Killed Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon does something that's arguably unforgivable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> betaed by the lovely halseyschemicalromance
> 
> this is super early. the next chapter will be up _next wednesday_ , i just happened to have this done ahead of time
> 
> Okay, so, something important has been brought to my attention--
> 
>  
> 
> **Ryan Ross's friend (the science guy) is Travis Barker (the drummer of Blink-182), not Travie McCoy (from Gym Class Heroes).**
> 
>  
> 
> **Travie McCoy was the man introduced in the previous chapter by Brendon.**
> 
>  
> 
> I have and will always refer to Ryan's friend as Travis, and Brendon will refer to his own friend as Travie. I have checked and double checked and know that I have never slipped up and called Travis Barker, Travie, and I introduced Travis Barker as Travis Barker, so I will not be making any sort of character changes as the character I've been writing is a skinny white dude covered in tattoos.
> 
> I just wanted to clear this up and avoid all confusion as to who's who in the zoo, cool? Travis is Travis Barker and Travie is Travie McCoy.
> 
> that being said, i hope you enjoy this chapter, as shit goes down :)

Months went by and it neared the end of the first semester of Ryan’s first year as a professor, and he… he was pretty fucking good at this. All of his students were doing really fucking well, except the few that didn’t fucking apply themselves or attend class, but Jon was saying Ryan should let that be, that there would always be a coupe of students who just didn’t fucking care and would always fail. Ryan eventually stopped feeling bad about the failing grades he issued them, because he was still getting their money no matter how they wasted it. He only had two failing students anyways, and they were two of three people who weren’t pursuing some sort of primary or secondary degree in psychology, so fuck it, right?

Jon was a godsend. He so fucking was. Any time Ryan couldn’t figure out the online grading software, or whenever a student came to him crying about a bullshit reason as to why they couldn’t turn in their paper (and Ryan totally understood that things like that happened, but the person living above you watching porn loudly was not a valid excuse), Ryan could always go to Jon. Jon was a fucking magic man and Ryan liked seeing him during lunch. Kellin helped Ryan out for three out of four classes, and was a really good listener, not minding hearing the same lesson over and over. He asked good questions and planned to continue to help Ryan into the next semester, which was a huge fucking relief. Ryan still didn’t know a lot about the kid, just that his soulmate was dealing with some pretty serious depression, and he was studying to become a therapist.

Patrick’s leg healed and he went back to Pete like nothing had happened. Ryan was counting their blessings, because Pete sometimes got suspicious, but Ryan also guessed that maybe Ryan had an inch of luck going for him. He appreciated it.

Ray was getting worse, though, and that was where Ryan’s luck ran out. And with Ray came the constant downfall of Mikey, who could barely bring himself to leave Ray’s side anymore unless alcohol was involved. They were lucky Gerard’s comic was becoming a fucking bestseller and making bank, because they wouldn’t be able to keep this house otherwise. Ryan was getting paid pretty well, but not enough to carry the whole family. God, Ryan owed Gerard a buffet of all his favorite things and people.  

It was an uphill struggle, and Ryan kept bringing up the brain surgery to remove the tumor because he had nothing else to off in the lines of actual, legitimate advice. He was almost temped to start some sort of online petition, because the slow death of his family was starting to wear him down.

Cancer was evil.

Ryan knew that.

Ray was skin and bones and sometimes couldn’t talk right. It was heartbreaking.

Mikey drank more and more, spending whatever he made at his new job at a sandwich store on alcohol because Gerard had cut him off in fear of his brother drinking himself to death, or at least decimating his liver. It astounded Ryan to see the lengths a person would go to to kill himself slowly. Most nights, Ryan would come home from classes and pull Mikey away from the dining table, prying bottles of hard liquor from his hands and steering him to bed. Mikey would curl into Ray’s arms and fall asleep the second his head hit the pillow. That part of the night seemed to be the only positive part of Mikey’s life these days.

But Ryan had to count his blessings, right? He couldn’t dwell on the horrible things.

Brendon was doing extremely well. Insanely well. He went from show to performance to festival. Brendon had chosen to go into the next tour immediately after the first, and then a third, which he was doing now. Pete was helping him learn French because he wanted to get Brendon worldwide in a few months. The album sales were doing extremely well across the continent and beyond, but Pete had also said something about getting a second album out before doing a world tour. Ryan just liked that Brendon had stuck to Ryan’s original music in the second tour, the stuff they’d made together back in the original days as Panic! “Fever” was a good album, one that Ryan was very proud of. He could listen to it now, and was happy to hear Brendon sing his words again. 

Ryan had more of a habit of watching Brendon’s televised shows whenever he could. Brendon had played at an award ceremony or two, and Ryan had those recorded and permanently saved to his TV. Josh and Halsey would watch those recordings with him every now and again just to act as the emotional support they knew Ryan needed, though they never mentioned being. Ryan just appreciated not being alone as he wallowed in self pity.

He was beyond being jealous and overprotective, as Pete had put it, and now he just missed Brendon. The dreams were going strong, and the narcolepsy only reared its ugly head around the time Ryan got home, maybe a little later, but that was it. Jon had started giving Ryan rides home since he only lived a couple miles from where Ryan did. That was pretty fucking serendipitous, considering how fucking huge LA was, and yet Jon somehow lived close enough for them to carpool and not worry about Ryan blacking out behind the wheel.

Brendon was happy, though, and that was what really mattered to Ryan. He wanted Brendon to be happy, and it was totally fucking happening, Ryan just really fucking wanted to be able to hold Brendon in his arms and kiss him and maybe even get him off, because Brendon made awesome noises when he was about to cum, and Ryan was a little horny depending on the full moon, so he deserved some slack.

There was a lot that could go wrong these days, of course. Josh never really did get around to proposing, and Ryan still wanted to know what the fuck “soulless” meant, but google search brought up nothing aside from weird Japanese anime and a couple fan fiction posts that had a lot to do with Sam Winchester (which Ryan totally read, because he was a fan, and it was fiction for fans, so fuck off). He wanted to ask Halsey what it meant, he really did, but it never seemed like the right time. No one ever seemed tipsy or high enough and Ryan just never felt like she would take the question well. Halsey was a fucking awesome girl, and Josh was still over the moon for her to this day, but Ryan didn’t want to toe any boundaries since she’d confronted him about having insecurities when it came to Ryan and Josh’s platonic relationship.

But again, shit was still so good, or at least good compared to what Ryan was used to. He was sure it was going to get a little better. Just needed some good news and Ryan’s spirits would finally lift off the runway

. . .

_“I’m gonna be home soon,” Brendon told Ryan, walking around the room with a pillow. Ryan thought he was pacing for a moment, but he sure that wasn’t the case. “I’m gonna miss touring, Ryan, but I need to record another album. Pete is wondering who’s gonna write it since I’m not as good as producing lyrics like you are. But he’s confident he can find me a team.”_

_Ryan smiled softly and opened his arms in an invitation. Brendon didn’t notice._

_“It’s gonna be weird being home again,” Brendon continued._

_“But good, right?”_

_Brendon looked to Ryan and smiled a bit. “I think so.”_

_Ryan smiled back, a little brighter. “I love you.”_

_Brendon woke up before he could say it back._

. . .

“So, Gee and I want to adopt,” Frank said as Ryan got ready for class the week before reading week. 

The slice of peach dropped from Ryan’s lips, which was just as well since they were out of season and tasted too bitter for Ryan’s liking. He looked at Frank from across the able, watching him with obvious shock written across his face. “Adopt?” Ryan repeated. “For real?”

Frank nodded as he poured himself a mug of coffee that was as dark as the bags under his eyes. “Gerard wants a kid. He wants to adopt because he says he doesn’t want the thought of some women having the privilege of having my sperm inside them, so a surrogate is out of the question. He’s already filling out the paperwork and he’s gonna take the psych test thing so we can get okay-ed for adopting. I’m gonna drop out and get a real job.”

Ryan frowned. “A real job?”

“This school shit sucks,” Frank chuckled. “And, uh, I never actually meant a real, really job, you know? Not with these tattoos. I was just take some bartending classes and open up a bar.”

Ryan’s brow shot up in surprise. He hadn’t any of this before. “That sounds like a good plan,” he chimed in, wanting Frank to know that he completely backed this idea up, because he liked showing his support in his friends with more than just action these days. Actions were awesome, but you couldn’t hear them like words. “I like the idea of owning the bar, though I may have to request that you practice at home if the practice involves actually alcoholic beverages. Mike doesn’t need the temptation.”

Fran grimaced and nodded, sitting across from Ryan. Ryan decided he could run a little late. Jon hardly ever showed up on time, anyways. “Gerard’s not handling this shit with Mikey well,” Frank told Ryan. “I’ve been thinking of suggesting a place. A rehab facility. Sending him there.”

Ryan paused. “… You know he would never go there willingly.”

Frank bit his lip. “I mean, who said it’d be with his consent? He won’t do it for his own good, so we might just have to do it for him.”

“He will never, ever trust us again if we do that for him,” Ryan said, his entire body tensing. “And I’m going to have to say that I do not condone this decision. I think it’s a mistake and I’ll fucking fight you on doing his to him, Frankie. This isn’t an addiction, this is a coping mechanism. Sending him away will only alienate him and make him want to leave us. What we need todo is fix Ray and take care of the problem at its source. Sending him away will only make things worse and make it easier for him to get into something even more destructive.”

Frank groaned and let his head fall onto the table. “I should be doing something, Ry. But I’ve already done so many things. And I’m just very tired… I also wanna draw flowers, but fuck, I can’t draw for shit.”

Ryan smiled wryly and nodded. 

“I kinda miss the way our family used to be,” Frank confessed, then haltingly added, “before Brendon.”

Ryan frowned. “Frank…”

“Not that Brendon being here makes things awful,” Frank mediated. “Just, things were little different back then. Mainly Ray not having cancer. God, Ryan, I just wish Ray didn’t have fucking cancer, you know? Like, out of all fucking people…”

“It does seem rather misplaced,” Ryan sighed. “But we can’t change that. We’ve just gotta try to fix it. And that’s why I think we should really get on board with the brain surgery and—”

“God, you just can’t drop that, can you?” Frank asked, sounding exhausted. He lifted his head and ran a hand over his face. “Ry, kid— I fucking love you, but this isn’t our decision. It’s suicide, and I completely agree with you, but at this point? You’re beating a dead horse. It’s just cruel to keep bringing it up at this point.”

Ryan wilted under Frank’s expression of exasperation and nodded, ducking his head. “Just makes me feel like I’m helpless.”

“We are,” Frank told him. “So fuck it. We’re one hundred percent helpless, and it’s dumb. But since we’re one hundred percent in this, we can pretty much do whatever the fuck we want since it won’t change a god damn thing. I could go set something on fire in the backyard and it wouldn’t help or hinder Ray.” He smirked a bit. “It’s almost an amazing type of freedom. Freedom in futility.”

“We should just get back to you and Gerard adopting,” Ryan decided. “That’s a lot more lighthearted. I’d prefer talking about something nice right now.”

“I dunno about nice,” Frank said. “Considering how stressful this is gonna be.”

Ryan chuckled. “Kids are stressful. You of all people should know. How many times did you get sent to the office for talking back to teachers and writing shit on the bathroom walls? You were the most notorious trouble maker.”

Frank smiled a bit, looking into his mug. “You know, the day I met Gee wasn’t actually the first time I’d ever met him.”

Ryan perked up a bit. “Yeah?” He wanted more of this story.

Frank nodded. “I’d actually met him outside the school once. Tried to bum a smoke. He laughed at me and left, but not after sticking a cig behind my ear and telling me that poison heals.” Frank smirked and shook his head. “Then you came up to me and said you knew the guy I was dreaming with, and I honestly didn’t recognize Gee for a few years, and only because Gee brought it up. It’s weird, you know? To think that without these dreams, we wouldn’t know our soulmate even if we met them. I could’ve very well passed up the opportunity to know and love him simply out of ignorance. It’s why I can never resent the dreams. Not like you probably do.”

“I don’t resent the dreams,” Ryan said uselessly. “Tell me more about meeting Gerard.”

Frank grinned a bit. “You like the story, huh? Like hearing about cute couples getting their time?” Ryan shrugged, not wanting to deny it. “Well, meeting Gerard was pretty great, something I have you to thank for. I remember the first dream, too. We made out like a pack of hellions, it was so fucking great. All we did was trade names, talk about how we were soulmates, and then Gerard said something like, “thank god I’ve found you, because I am so horny,” and we just made out so much, even some heavy petting.” Frank sighed. “Honestly kinda disappointed we didn’t get to dream that much. We found each other after the first one.”

“That’s an almost unheard of blessing,” Ryan told Frank, wanting to make sure he knew how lucky he’d been. “To be that close to your soulmate, and so suddenly. That’s, like, a one in seven billion chance.”

Frank smirked. “Because Gee’s one in a billion, baby.”

Ryan smirked back and shook his head. “You two are my relationship goals,” he said. 

“It’s just crazy,” Frank said. “I like to think that we were so perfect for each other that the world made sure we were born in the same city, nearly the same neighborhood. The second you texted me and said that you had Gerard, I fucking flipped, Ryan. I left class three minutes early, got sent to detention later that day for leaving, but god, was it worth it. I think I got in trouble because my math teacher was jealous. She’d had to travel all the way from ShangHai to get to her soulmate.”

Ryan nodded. “See, that’s the weird part. Most of the time, there won’t be that much of a distance between people because of the cultural differences. The perfect person for you will likely be raised in a similar way simply so you don’t have an issue. Like how Brendon and I both had parental issues. No such thing as a daddy or mommy’s boy between us, even though that can be an issue for a lot of couples. Like how men who were closer with their mothers tend to have strife between their mother and their spouse. There are a lot of issues that can come up from simply where you’re born, so people usually don’t cross a cultural border when it comes to soulmate bonding.”

“I wonder if we’re a computer program,” Frank said. “Like the Sims. How else would whatever’s doing this know who to set up with who?”

Ryan shrugged. He didn’t have the answers.

“Especially since Brendon’s some kind of magician or psychic or something,” Frank added. “What if he’s a manifestation of the power that puts people together? Holy shit, Ryan, what if he is the one who puts people together? Or what if he’s just—” Frank looked dramatically beyond Ryan’s shoulder, eyes wide and serious as he took a sip of his coffee before finally finishing, “—the one.”

Ryan sent Frank the ultimate bitch-face and forced himself not to reach across the table and smack Frank. “It’s too fucking early for your bullshit,” he said. “Go back to regaling me with tales of your homosexual soulmate debauchery before I pour that scalding coffee down the back of your pants.”

“Kinky,” Frank challenged with a waggle of his brow.

The doorbell rang and Ryan flipped Frank off affectionately before grabbing his bag and going to open the door for Jon.

Jon smirked at Ryan and held up his feet. Ryan scowled and pushed past Jon out the door. “You’ll forget one day!” Ryan insisted as he went to Jon’s car.

They had this little bet going— all Jon ever fucking wore on his feet were flip flips and never changed them, not even the style. Ryan had bet him fifty bucks and lunch from Pei Wei that Jon would forget one day, but so far Ryan hadn’t even come close to winning because Jon was vehemently trying not to forget. Ryan was just waiting for the rainy season. He knew he would be victorious once the downpour happened. He only prayed the drought was kind. 

“We gotta get moving,” Jon told Ryan with a smirk. “We’ve got a couple minds to fill with our wisdom. One day, you and I will be the people to be thanked during acceptance speeches for the Nobel Peace Prize.”

“Is that what gets you out of bed in the morning?” Ryan asked snarkily as he buckled up. “Thinking about being the secondary reason for some award? You want to be an inspiration?” Actually, that didn’t sound bad the more Ryan explored the idea. He paused, then looked to Jon. “That actually doesn’t sound too awful.”

Jon grinned as he drove away. “Dream small, Ryan. Dream small. That’s what my husband always says.”

. . .

“Vic’s been doing little better,” Kellin told Ryan and Jon over lunch. Kellin had brought Indian and coffee in a grand gesture of generosity that he usually didn’t have. It wasn’t that Kellin wasn’t a good person or anything, he was just a little standoffish most days. It had to do with being stretched too thin over too many responsibilities. Ryan just appreciated the days Kellin look capable of outward gestures of kindness, because it meant he wasn’t feeling too overdrawn. “He’s been clean for two weeks, which is pretty cool, but I still can’t fucking convince him to get some meds.”

Jon grimaced as he fumbled with his spork. “People are messy,” Jon said. “It’s why I prefer science. The test tube may runneth over, and the acid may flay the skin, but at least I knew it was going to happen should I make a mistake. With people, you just gotta cross your fingers and hope the backlash is at least somewhat reasonable.”

“It never is,” Ryan sighed dramatically, going for the worn and haggard college professor. His jacket fit into the aesthetic. He had one student who wanted to take a picture of him and put it up on her blog so everyone would finally believe her when she said she had a “super adorable and attractive professor.” Ryan’s tentative ego was a little wont to indulge her. “Though honestly, I don’t think I’m smart enough for anything in the realms of chemistry or biology. I’d prefer to leave that shit to the scientists.”

“You do know psychology is considered a science, right?” Kellin asked as he squinted and tried to cope with how hot his Laal Maas was. “Holy shit, god, fuck,” Kellin cursed, diving for the milk carton he’d gotten from one of the cafeterias for this very reason. “I’m dying,” he wheezed, and Jon started to laugh.

“Can’t stand the heat, get out of the oven, baby,” Jon hummed. “That’s what my wife always says.”

Now, see, Ryan was confused, and he had been for most of the semester. Because Jon would talk about his wife one moment, then his husband the next, and Ryan was wondered if there was some disconnect, or maybe some sordid love affair? Maybe it was polygamous? But Jon always referred to that person, wife or, husband, as his soulmate, so it had to be one fucking person. Having two soulmates was impossible. And not in the way that Brendon could alter things with his head, but in the legitimately impossible way. It hadn’t ever happened, and it wasn’t ever going to happen. But Ryan was still confused.

“I have to ask,” Kellin said. “Who’s your partner?” 

Ah, yes, good job Kellin, using the gender neutral term since neither Ryan nor Kellin had fuck all of an idea as to who this was, even though they’d both discussed it at length between classes.

Jon hummed. “Cassie Walker. Or Caleb Walker.”

That didn’t clear anything up.

“Two people?”

Jon shook his head and stirred his Phaal Curry. “No, no, they’re the same person.”

Ryan waited for Jon to explain, but he didn’t. “Jesus, Jon, way to hold shit back,” he sighed. “Is it DD? Or something else? Or do you just not want to talk about it?”

Jon laughed, looking between Kellin and Ryan with mirth. “Sometimes he’s Caleb, sometimes she’s Cassie— she was born Cassie, but some days he wakes up as Caleb. My partner is gender fluid. It’s great. Got the biggest closet in LA for her so she could keep her extensive wardrobe nicely packed away. He woke up Caleb this morning, but texted me a couple hours ago as Cassie, so I just go with it. Makes things and interesting and lively. And we’ve got an amazing strap-on collection.”

Kellin gaped and Ryan giggled a little, because this was awesome. “You should introduce Cassie— is it Cassie today?— you should introduce her to Gee. He would adore her. Or him.” Ryan winced. “Does she mind if someone messes up the pronoun?”

“Not at all,” Jon said. “She’s pretty lenient like that. Very understanding. It’s not like people are psychic. They can’t suddenly know which pronoun to use, especially when she’s feel straight androgynous. She’s not ridiculous or anything. She knows it can be difficult to know.”

“That’s rare in a person with a lifestyle,” Kellin commented. Ryan had to agree.

“She’s my moon,” Jon said almost dreamily. “Been married for five years, and I’ve loved every second of it.”

Kellin sounded excited by the news, but Ryan just suddenly felt like his engagement ring, forgotten on his hand, was much heavier than normal. He paused in his eating long enough to ensure he wouldn’t choke on his soup— or sadness— then began eating again. It was like fucking the pain away, except the pleasure of being full lasted a little longer than an orgasm from his hand. 

“You good, Ry?” Jon asked as he cleaned his fingers of extra whatever that was in his lunch. 

Ryan shrugged. “Good enough. The food was awesome. Thanks, Kellin.”

“Thanks Kellin!” Jon chimed in, smiling at the kid. Kellin just grumbled to hide how pleased he was with the satisfaction of the two men and continued to finish his own lunch.

“It’s been a good day, though,” Ryan said, focusing on the positive things rather than what brought him down. “Frank and Gerard are gonna adopt. Isn’t that amazing? I’m just, it’s amazing to me. That these two guys can come out of dark lives, where one of them was on the brink of suicide for years, and come together to aspire to raise a new life. That’s the ultimate rebound, you know? The best kind of recovering. Success story. Something like Robert Downey Jr. or whatever, and I’m just really fucking proud of them.”

Jon grinned and nodded. “Cassie and I are thinking about having a kid,” he said. “She doesn’t mind staying at home and taking care of a kid. In fact, it’s what she’s wanted for most of her life. She hates the thought of working. She’s a nurturer, and so is Caleb. Hell, she wants to give birth so badly.”

“How would that work for Caleb?” Ryan asked, a little curious. “Obviously Caleb identifies as a male— would he have some dysphoria problems while pregnant?”

Jon shrugged, frowning a bit. “Never thought about that…”

“I’d recommend couples therapy for that,” Ryan suggested. “On days when Cassie is in her various genders. Just to see how that would work out for Cassie and Caleb on any day. It’s an important aspect of child bearing to consider when involving a person who is gender fluid or transgender.”

“See, this is why I like having smart friends,” Jon said. “Wouldn’t want to make Cas sign up for anything she isn’t ready for.”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t do it,” Ryan said. He looked to Kellin to double check. “I’m not saying they shouldn’t have a kid, right?”

Kellin shook his head as he packed up his lunch.

“Okay, yeah,” Ryan continued, looking back to Jon. “This isn’t me warning against it, this is me telling you what to keep an eye on and always consider. Also keep in mind the gender dysphoria a child may experience when having a gender fluctuating parent, such as when they’re asked in class who their mommy and daddy are, and they’re not sure if they have that, or if they have two daddies. And again, this isn’t a negative thing, it’s just a thing.”

Jon groaned, running a hand over his face. “So, definitely get some couples therapy,” Jon said, like he was making a list. “Look into pamphlets or classes and shit for the kid. Talk to Cas about that stuff…”

“But don’t ask her to sacrifice who she is,” Ryan added. “That could create resentment in the relationship, either towards the child or you.”

“Oh my god, so complicated,” Kellin said, just chiming in. 

Ryan smirked a bit. “I mean, raising a kid was never supposed to be simple. It’s a complicated thing to bring a new life into this crazy kind of world we have. And it all depends on how you want to raise the kid. There’s a lot of shit that can happen and a lot that can go wrong, but a lot that can also go right.”

“Everything is so complicated,” Jon groaned, falling back in his seat with a heavy sigh.

“Just be the adult you’re supposed to be and do your best not to fuck it up,” Ryan advised. “Cause you’re gonna fuck something up anyways, so make sure it isn’t too serious.”

. . .

 _“So, Pete says that he’s not really worried about the rumors and shit that have been circulating,”_ Patrick told Ryan over the phone. He’d been a crucial aspect in Ryan keeping contact with Brendon and knowing about what was happening with Travie and shit. Dallon was also really helpful. Dallon was right next to Patrick as they were speaking on the phone. _“He’s already put out the information that Brendon has a soulmate who isn’t Travie or really anyone on tour, and people are soaking it up, asking a shit ton of questions and stuff. I guess we just need to decide if you wanna come out or not. But people are getting the picture— Brendon is taken. Pete’s just a little mad about it.”_

 _“Pete’s probably crazy,”_ Ryan heard Dallon say and Ryan smiled a little. Class was to start in ten minutes, and Kellin was out getting a soda from the vending machine. 

_“Pete’s definitely a little crazy,”_ Patrick sighed. _“But look, he says that there’s too much stuff going on, and—”_

After Patrick cut himself off, Ryan paused, trying to listen. There was talking over the other line, but it was muffled. Ryan was sure he could hear Pete and maybe Brendon, and the voices were harsh. A lot was being said at once.

 _“Ryan, I have to call you back,”_ Patrick said stiffly. _“And before anyone says anything, I’m just gonna tell you that I’m so fucking sorry.”_

Patrick hung up and Ryan was met with a sinking feeling.

He hoped Patrick wasn’t in trouble.

. . .

Ryan was halfway through the last class of the day when a student raised her hand to ask a question. Her name was Raina and she was a nice enough girl who spent way too much time on social media in his class, but she was also passing with a high B, so Ryan only called her out on being on her phone when it was a blatant distraction to other students. 

Raina raised her hand halfway through Ryan’s slide on Incident versus Prevalence in Epidemiological studies and usually that was a big no-no in Ryan’s class. You weren't supposed to interrupt a slide because the chance of your question being answered before Ryan switched to the nest slide was pretty damn high.

“Raina?” Ryan asked with a patient smile. “Anything I can help you with?”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with the lesson,” Raina explained. “And I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to ask this after class.”

Ryan sighed, but he already knew he was going to let her ask. All material he covered this week wasn’t going to be on the final because he didn’t think it was fair to unload all that information on people so close to the ultimate exam. It was okay if he didn’t finish the lesson to its entirety. “Alright, Raina— what can I help you with?”

“Are people known to cheat on their soulmate?” Raina asked. Ryan noticed she was mostly looking at her laptop. “I mean, isn’t there, like, some huge disconnect there if someone does cheat? I’ve never heard of anyone cheating on their soulmate. Like, ever.”

Ryan frowned. “Do you have any specifics?”

“It’s one of my favorite celebrities,” Raina said, looking up from her phone for a split second. “He’s kinda young, so that may be it? And he’s super duper talented and is known for partying a lot, and a little information came out awhile ago about a soulmate, but he’s been seen with someone who as blatantly stated to not be his soulmate, and I’m confused? Is he cheating? Is that possible?”

“Well, I guess it depends on the persons psyche,” Ryan said, leaning against his desk and taking his mug of coffee to his lips for a sup. “For all we know, it could be an open relationship. Regardless of the existence of soulmates, people still have sexualities and sexual preferences. Soulmates can have open or polygamous relationships regardless of how unconventional other people may see those relationships to be.”

Raine bit her lip. “I don’t think that’s what this is. He sings this song called Northern Downpour and it sounds pretty in love with just one person.”

Ryan paused. “… What was the song called again?” He set down his mug and rested his palms on the desk, staring at Raina intently. She didn’t notice how serious Ryan’s expression was because she was so focused on her phone. 

“Northern Downpour,” she repeated. “It’s really pretty. I know that a lot of musicians these days don’t actually write their songs, but he’s gotten pretty emotional singing that in the past, so I’m pretty sure he’s monogamous, or supposed to be. But there are pictures of him kissing this over person and I’m just very confused.”

“Please tell me you’re not talking about Brendon,” Ryan said.

Raina looked surprised. “I didn’t know you were a Panic! at the Disco fan.”

Ryan fumbled for his keyboard, knocking over his mug of coffee in the process. His drink spilled onto the floor, but Ryan didn’t care. “I, uh, I just,” he babbled, trying to exit out of the powerpoint. As he minimized the program, Ryan’s laptop background was revealed. 

It showed him and Brendon, arm in arm, posing for one of Mikey’s random photography moments. Brendon was turned towards Ryan, kissing Ryan’s cheek, and Ryan’s eyes were shut as he laughed. The moment was one of Ryan’s favorite memories, and he stared at Brendon’s face for a little too long. Raina gasped when she saw the background, eyes going wide.

“Dr. Ross,” Raina said shakily. “I am s-so so sorry.”

Ryan didn’t hear her, not really. He brought up his browser and quickly googled Brendon’s name, hands shaking. 

The first thing he saw in the results was some tabloid magazine showing a photo of Brendon and some really pretty and petite blonde locking lips inside a Denny’s, and Ryan’s entire world just stopped. 

This wasn’t staged.

This wasn’t artistic.

This was a moment of intimacy that cameras just so happened to capture.

Ryan wasn’t supposed to know about this.

Ryan was never meant to find out.

This was Brendon’s dirty little secret and Ryan felt…

“Class dismissed,” he mumbled. He didn’t look away from the picture, but repeated, a little louder, “class dismissed. I’ll let you know if we have class for the rest of the week, but… Don’t plan on it. Good luck with finals.” He dropped into his chair and stared at the boy he thought he’d known and wondered how he could have believed this wouldn’t have happened. How he could have had faith, how he could have trusted. He was stupid. He wondered how long this had been happening.

He wondered how many times Brendon had lied to him.

Ryan felt Kellin approaching and knew he couldn’t handle this right now. “Go home, Kellin,” he choked out. He planned on calling a cab home. “Good luck with finals. Focus on your studies.”

“Dr. Ryan…”

“Tell Vic I hope he makes some progress,” Ryan said as he started to pack his things carelessly. “I hope you have a good rest of your week.”

Kellin was quiet for a moment. “Good luck, sir.”

Ryan shut his eyes to fight back the tears. He just nodded not trusting himself to give a response in a voice that wouldn’t crack or give away too much of what he was feeling. He wanted to be swallowed hole. He wanted to stop existing. His soulmate, who he’d sacrificed every dream he’d ever had for, was photographed kissing some girl. Ryan didn’t know what to do anymore. 

He didn’t move from his desk until his classroom was empty. Only then did Ryan stand. He slung his bag over his shoulder and just stood for a very long time, staring at his feet. He was tired now. Just too tired to cope with what was happening to him. 

Ryan started to walk like a robot, leaving campus and calling a cab with a monotonous, empty voice and a nearly nonexistent purpose. As he got into the cab and watched the city crawl by, he realized that he didn’t want to go home. Not yet.

Ryan redirected the cab driver to the beach and paid the cab fair before stepping out into the sun and cursing everything.

He watched a mother hold the hands of her two children as they walked across the hot sand. He watched a homeless man that was suffering serious withdrawal shout randomly at a trashcan. He watched a business man take a shortcut through the beach that just so happened to lead him past two young women lying on their stomachs, both of them sunbathing without tops. Ryan went to a hot dog stand and bought a bottled coke. He popped the cap, drank the soda, then threw the bottle at a tree and watched it shatter. Then he instantly regretted it and went down on his hands and knees to pick up everyone single shard of glass he could find. He knew he couldn't have found everything, and that only made him feel worse.

Ryan found a place to sit. It was under two palm trees, next to a dingy pier that suffered far less traffic than most of the more well known piers, and leaned his head back against the tree immediately behind him, staring at nothing. Then he shut his eyes.

It had been two hours since he’d left campus.

He hadn’t spared a single second to think about Brendon, but now he knew he should.

Brendon was with another person. A girl. He’d kissed a girl and it had been photographed. In Ryan’s experience, he felt like it took three events before you got caught. Which meant Brendon had been doing this for a while, had been kissing someone else for a while. Ryan couldn’t cope with that reality.

“Did you ever really love me?” Ryan asked no one.

“No one ever loves anyone,” a random person answered as they walked past Ryan. “Get your head out of the clouds and get a fucking job.”

Ryan shut his eyes and dug his nails into his arm.

The image of Brendon’s lips touching the girl’s was burned into the inside of his eyelids and he forced himself to breath slowly through his nose, long and slow and purposeful. He wondered what he was going to do now. Would he continue to love and care for Brendon? Would he try to fix this? Would he give up? Should he give up? Ryan didn't have the slightest idea of where to go from here.

He heard his phone ringing again and ignored it. People had been trying to get ahold of him for hours, even before Ryan had seen the article. Now it made sense as to why Gerard had tried to call him three times beforehand. Ryan wondered if he would’ve taken the terrible news any better if it had come from a friend and not a student with a link to a tabloid. 

Ryan kept his eyes shit and eventually fell asleep there.

He woke up once the sun was gone and instantly went to check if all his belongings remained. Everything was, thankfully, in place.

He looked to his phone and found nearly thirty missed calls and nearly a hundred messages. Ryan scrolled through all of them, his fingertips cold and barely functioning. Ryan saw most of the calls came from his family— Josh, Gerard, Frank, Pete— people like that. People who sent texts too, asking where Ryan was and if he was okay or not, if he was hurt, dead or alive. Ryan felt bad for leaving them in the dark like this, but he wasn’t sure he was ready for the confrontation he knew would be immediate once he arrived home. He didn’t even know what he was going to do about Brendon yet.

He saw a few texts from Brendon, but immediately deleted those. He just… he couldn’t. He couldn’t hear the apologies or empty excuses. The kiss had been consensual and familiar. Ryan could see that in the way Brendon had been smiling with his eyes closed.

He managed to see a text from Josh reading, _“im going 2 fucking kill him,”_ before shutting off his phone.

He stood with heavy sigh and looked around the now mostly empty beach, wondering if he could bum a cigarette off of anyone. Ryan didn't smoke, had only tried it once or twice in high school, but he didn’t trust himself to get drunk away from home, when no one knew where he was. He was heartbroken and empty and so fucking angry, but he wasn’t stupid. 

Wait, yes he was. Ryan was stupid. So fucking stupid for trusting a little boy like Brendon to be able to handle himself while on his own and touring the country. Trusted Brendon to be a fucking adult and show some self restraint when it came to drugs, alcohol, and women. Brendon had no morals because he hadn’t been raised with any.

Ryan clenched his fist and grit his teeth. He would bet money that the girl kissing Brendon was someone who followed the tour or was an adoring fan. And if she was so close to Brendon, then she had to have known about Ryan. Was she willingly tempting Brendon into something sordid? Was she a fucking home-wrecker? Except it took two to tango, and two people to have a fucking affair, so Ryan couldn’t even let himself try to defend Brendon because Brendon didn’t fuck deserve it.

God, after all the fucking times Ryan had stood up for that kid, this was how Brendon repaid him?

Ryan scowled and tore the useless engagement ring from his finger, throwing it into the ocean with a swear under his breath. It barely made it into the surf, but he was confident the sea would wash it away.

Confident in his anger, Ryan went to the street and flagged down a cab. He took it home, staring out the window the whole time, absolutely consumed with rage and a little bit of disgust. He was riding the high of being betrayed and he felt like he deserved to curse Brendon for a little while.

When he finally got home, he strode past nearly everyone, who were fathered in the living room (including Jon and Ray), and went straight to the dining table where Mikey was getting drunk of tequila.

Ryan snatched the mostly full bottle, downed half of it with red flashing behind his eyes. It took a few long swallows, but he managed it through sheer willpower alone. Josh tried to stop him, but Ryan pulled away from the mouth of the bottle to glare daggers at him. Josh stepped away, Ryan finished the bottle, and then Ryan stormed across the back yard and went to bed, locking his door behind himself.

Getting angry at his friends hadn’t made him feel any better, but at least the alcohol was warming his fingertips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> www.wellthisisprettyrisque.tumblr.com


	7. Can’t Defuse a Bomb that’s Already Gone Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Unfortunately, my computer has broken, and there will not be another update for what I estimate to be two weeks.**
> 
>  
> 
> if i don't get my computer back repaired by two weeks, i'll find a way to get the chapter up regardless.
> 
> sorry :(
> 
> i'll still be able to read comments and the like on my phone, i just have a difficult writing on a handheld device. my thumbs are too short.
> 
> thanks for understanding if you do ~

Ryan woke up late the next morning and knew he wouldn’t be going to class. He stared past everything, past the pillows and walls and oxygen, and tried to muster up the willpower to just get up and eat something, maybe take a shower, or at least splash some water on his face. He needed to take care of himself, didn’t he? Even if he didn’t want to. Even if he just wanted to lie in bed and stop existing. He knew people would care if he was gone, but he didn’t care that they would care. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ryan knew he’d been a downright fucking asshole. He was too ashamed to consider apologizing right now.

Ryan heard his phone go off, just a vibration, the device nearly rattling off the edge of the nightstand. He sighed and figured that his phone had been the thing to initially wake him. He grabbed it and looked to the screen. A ton of messages and phone calls he didn’t plan on answering and nothing else that mattered. Work hadn’t called, so he assumed that someone had told Travis not to expect Ryan. He was sure that the university would cut him some slack.

Ryan eventually extricated himself from the sheets and grimaced when he looked down and realized that he’d slept in his jeans and tweed jacket and even his fucking dress shoes. He felt like such a fucking disgusting piece of shit, god fucking dammit, he was such a fucking mess, he didn’t deserve anything good, didn’t deserve the sun on his face or good friends or family and he sure as hell didn’t deserve Brendon and—

Ryan flinched and cursed as he came back to himself when the glass of the mirror he’d punched shattered. Shards dropped into the sink bowl, Ryan’s reflection still showing in the pieces that were flecked with blood. It took Ryan a few long seconds before he realized he should probably check the damage. He looked to his knuckles and winced.

“Fuck,” he said to himself. The skin was split and bleeding and there were a few shards stuck in the flesh. A wave of dizziness crashed over him simultaneously with the pain. He regretted getting out of bed.

The first aid kit was in the kitchen. Ryan was going to have to brave the faces of the people he’d let down last night just to get himself treated. He was so angry with himself now. He was almost sickeningly happy that he’d hurt himself when hitting the mirror. A sort of punishment that he absolutely deserved.

Ryan put a paper towel to his knuckles before going to his bedroom door and unlocking it. He was really shocked when Josh (who had apparently be leaning with his back to the door) tumbled back onto Ryan’s feet with a yelp. Ryan stood firm so Josh wouldn’t hit the ground, but didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say, really. Josh looked up at him from the ground with soulful eyes, all this sadness and commiseration on his face, and it made Ryan nauseous. 

“Ryan, I’m—”

“This first aid kit is still under the sink, right?” Ryan interrupted. He couldn’t handle pity right now.

Josh faltered. “What did you do?” He struggled to stand, looking to Ryan’s wrists like he was assuming the worst, and Ryan was almost pissed at him for not trusting him, but then he remembered his numerous suicide attempts, and yeah, okay, Ryan was just such a fucking asshole.

Ryan held out his fist. “I punched my mirror,” he said. “I think. I didn’t really mean to, but it happened. I need to get some glass out before I can really wrap it.” He paused, battling with himself. “Could you help me?” he forced himself to ask. He honestly didn’t want to be around fucking anyone right now, but he knew that he shouldn’t be alone.

Josh nodded and stepped back so Ryan could get past him, which he did. They were both very quiet as Ryan went downstairs and got out the first aid kit. Ryan got the tweezers and started to try and get all the glass out, but he realized suddenly that his hands were shaking so fucking badly.

“Let me,” Josh said softly, taking Ryan’s hand in his own and getting close enough for Ryan to feel Josh’s breath on his fingertips. Ryan watched Josh oh so carefully pry shard after shard from Ryan’s flesh and bone, and as Ryan watched, his heart started to ache. It hurt. It hurt to be treated so gently when he’d been so cruel, and Ryan was reminded, again, that he didn’t fucking deserve any of the good he’d been given. He didn’t… He didn’t deserve Josh. 

Ryan knew, now, that Josh was honestly and completely one of the best things that had ever happened to Ryan and he had let Josh slip away in the stead of a soulmate who didn’t fucking want him. What if Ryan had just stopped searching for Brendon? What if he had stayed with Josh? He was sure he could have fallen for Josh, anyone could fall for Josh, why the fuck had he done this to himself?

“Ry, dude, don’t cry,” Josh said sadly, reaching out and resting a bloody hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “Whatever this is… we’ll fix it. I’ll be by your side no matter what happens, okay? It’ll all turn out okay in the end. It has to, right?” Josh was asking that instead of stating so. “It has to…”

“Do you ever think about what life w-would be like if you and I had just loved each other?” Ryan asked shakily, sniffling a little. He wanted wipe his eyes, but he knew the salt of his tears would sting the gouges in his hands. “Do you ever think about you and me? What we could have been?” Josh was staring into Ryan’s eyes like he was seeing more than Ryan was saying, and it was scary. “What if we were better off together?”

“It’s best not to think about that,” Josh murmured, nearly whispering. “I’m with Hals now. You’re with…” Josh looked down, and Ryan appreciated that Josh and shut himself up. Ryan didn’t have Brendon anymore. And he didn’t have Josh. 

Once again, he was alone when surrounded by people who, at least, had someone.

Ryan pulled his hand out of Josh’s and grabbed the Neosporin, not really feeling like cleaning his hand before disinfecting it. He wrapped it haphazardly and stood from his seat. “I think I’m gonna go outside,” he said. “Maybe go somewhere else. I don’t know. Maybe the beach again. Probably not.” He sighed. “I’ll keep in touch.”

“You’re fucking stupid if you think I’m letting you go anywhere alone.”

“God, Josh, please,” Ryan said, steeling himself to beg or something even more demeaning. “I’ll do anything you want, if you’ll just let me go.”

Josh nodded. “Sure. You can go if I’m allowed to tail you.”

Ryan let out a gust of air from his nose, a sort of heavy sigh of frustration through his nostrils that only barely translated his frustration. “Josh, I need to be alone, okay? I really, really do, because I’m scared that I’ll lash out at one of you and say something that I regret even more than the things I’ve already done. I-I can be a real asshole when I’m hurting, Josh. I don’t want to do that to you.”

“I can handle it,” Josh said confidently. “I’m not leaving you alone. Not with your history, Ryan. I simply do not trust you, and have no qualm in saying so.”

Ryan let out another huff and leaned against the wall, hanging his head. He was just coping at this point. Hadn’t worked anything out. Didn’t expect to do so anytime soon. He was still ignoring countless messages on his phone, and…

“Pete probably thinks I killed myself,” Ryan mumbled, realizing that everyone expected Ryan to do the worst thing possible when his entire life was destroyed. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, uh, look— you and I should go somewhere. Somewhere that I can just fucking forget all of this shit, okay? But I have to call Pete first. I just, I need to let him know that I’m not in some morgue, yeah? But get your shoes on while I call him.”

Josh paused, but then nodded. “I’ll get my jacket, too. It’s supposed to get colder tonight, and I’m thinking you don’t want to come back home for a while.”

Ryan smiled sadly. “I’m honestly considering getting a hotel somewhere close. A staycation. Just… seems like something I could use right now. A break.”

“You need to deal with this, Ryan…”

“I will,” Ryan promised. “Just not yet.”

Josh pursed his lips. “One more day of avoidance, okay? And then I’m forcing your hand. This isn’t healthy, but I’m really preaching to the choir by saying that.”

Ryan smiled sadly. “Thanks, Joshy.”

Josh waved him off. “Call Pete. I’ll be downstairs.”

Ryan sucked in a breath and dialed Pete’s number once he was alone.

_“Holy fuck, Ryan, oh my god, please tell me you’re okay!”_

Ryan shut his eyes at the sound of the panic in Pete’s voice and tried not to lash out at him. He knew this was partially Pete’s fault, there was no fucking way it couldn’t be, Pete was supposed to be in charge of Brendon, but Ryan also knew that Pete was one of the last people that could ever want to hurt Ryan. And he had to give Pete credit for that.

“Did you know?” he asked Pete almost coldly. He didn’t blame Pete completely, but he sure as fuck was mad at him. “Did you fucking know, Pete? Did you just not tell me?”

 _“I didn’t know, I fucking swear,”_ Pete choked out, sounding wrecked. _“The picture went online when Patrick was talking to you, a-and that was the first I’d ever heard of it. I had no clue he’d been going around with these girls, Ryan, I am so fucking sorry, okay? I’m sorry. If I had known, I would’ve told you.”_ Pete sniffled into the receiver and Ryan hoped Pete wasn’t crying. _“Y-you have to believe me, Ryan… Please…”_

Ryan sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “… You’ve never lied to me before,” he said, mostly for his own benefit. Ryan was working through his thoughts aloud. He figured Pete would appreciated hearing how the train tracked as opposed to sitting in tense silence. Because, regardless of what was happening, and how Ryan could unwittingly be an asshole, Ryan never, ever meant to be outright cruel. “I believe you when you say you would’ve told me. And I know that you’re pretty against this sort of thing, against cheating and stuff.” Ryan sighed again and leaned against his dresser, just thinking. “… Do you swear you had no part in this?”

 _“Swear on my fucking life, Ryan,”_ Pete insisted, sounding worse by the word. 

“Then why didn’t you tell me once you’d found out?” Ryan asked. “You would’ve spared me a lot of fucking trouble, Pete, because do you want to know how I caught on?” Pete was silent, which Ryan took as a go-ahead. “One of my fucking students was asking about cheating on soulmates. I googled that shit and saw the picture of Brendon with that girl, but not before my entire class saw the desktop photo of me and Brendon nearly fucking kissing. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was? How, how harrowing? I developed fucking tunnel vision or something stupider, Pete. I would’ve appreciated being told before being outed to my entire fucking class!”

 _“God, I’m sorry, Ryan,”_ Pete whimpered. _“I, I can’t even imagine. Fuck, I don’t want to imagine. If Patrick ever did this to me, I’d…”_

“Patrick wouldn’t do this to you,” Ryan said. “Because Patrick’s not a shitty fucking person.”

Pete paused. _“Brendon… he’s not a shitty person.”_

Ryan grit his teeth. “Pete, I’m gonna politely ask you not to defend Brendon right now. I get that you like the kid, okay? Believe me, no one likes him as much as me, but right now, I’m really fucking angry and betrayed and just plain sick of sticking up for him. And I’d like a few nights of being able to get fucking angry without everyone breathing down my neck about supporting my soulmate, no matter what he’s done. Fucking none of you get to tell me I haven’t been absolutely and wholly loyal to this boy my whole fucking life, so fuck off.”

 _“I’m sorry, Ryan,”_ Pete winced.

Ryan scowled, but mostly at himself. “Fuck, okay, sorry. I’m sorry. Not really, but don’t fuck off. I’m just…”

 _“Volatile?”_ Pete provided a little nervously. _“You have a right, Ryan. You’ve been cheated on. You’re right. I-I like Brendon, and I want to defend him, but… I’ve been putting him ahead of you. And god, Ryan, that’s kinda a little fucked up to do when you’re the one who was hurt, and he’s…”_

Pete paused, and Ryan waited for him to continue. He was kinda dreading this part. He wasn’t sure what he would do if Brendon was just as devastated.

_“Shit, Ryan, Brendon’s completely fine.”_

Ryan breathed out and slowly sunk to the floor. “… Oh.”

_“He just smiles at everyone, Ryan, it’s awful. I haven’t confronted him about what he’s done yet, because I haven’t felt confident enough to do so, and now I don’t even want to, because I’m scared I might lash out and say something awful. But wouldn’t he deserve anything I could say if he was completely uncaring about this?”_

“He’s sick, Pete,” Ryan mumbled. “He has to be. That’s the only thing that makes sense. Right?”

 _“I mean, I don’t know,”_ Pete said cautiously. _“He, he doesn’t talk about you as much as he used to. And he goes off partying and slips out from under my eye all the time. I don’t even know how long this has been going on. I don't know anything, Ryan. This is so fucked up.”_

“He’s really, just, happy?” Ryan asked in a shaky voice. “He’s completely okay. Not even, like, remorseful? Sorry? He doesn’t even seem regretful? Even regretful about getting caught?”

 _“I wish I could say he was,”_ Pete said. _“But if anything, he just feels like he’s been given permission to parade more groupies around. It’s almost like this was his cowardly way of breaking up with you. I think. I-I might be wrong. Maybe he’s just trying to save face?”_

“Fuck, Pete,” Ryan choked out, starting to cry. He looked up when he heard the sound of footsteps and tensed when he saw Josh standing in the door way. Ryan sniffled and tried to stop crying, but it hurt too much. He let out this strangled sob as he fought to keep the emotion down, and reached out for Josh. Josh didn’t hesitate in dropping to the floor beside Ryan and holding tight to his hand. “Pete, what do I do?”

 _“You need to talk to him, Ryan,”_ Pete said. _“That, that’s all I can think of.”_

Ryan nodded, squeezing Josh’s hand hard enough to hurt. “I-I’ve gotta go, Pete,” he stammered.

_“I love you, Ryan. I’m sorry for doing what I did.”_

Ryan nodded and blinked rapidly to get those fucking tears away. “L-love you.”

Once Ryan hung up, he turned into Josh’s neck and started to cry. Dry, heavy sobs wracked his body, threatening to make him choke on his own tongue. Josh put an arm around Ryan’s shoulders to help keep him in his temporary hiding space so Ryan could effectively go limp and cry his fucking heart out. Existing was unbearable and Ryan was sick of nothing working out for him; not permanently. He’d get a break, one little break, a couple of good things before the worst possible thing that could ever happen would just hit him like a semi truck and splatter his innards across the highway for everyone to see. 

Josh just held him and made soothing noises, speaking words Ryan couldn’t understand through his grief.

. . .

Ryan calmed down after an hour or so, and still refused to talk. He didn’t want to whine about his problems to people who could easily get bored of him and toss him aside. He had self esteem and abandonment issues— he wasn’t about to hand everyone an invitation or reason to ditch him.

He and Josh still went out. They still walked a pier, got coffee, and didn’t say much to each other. Josh would sometimes purposefully bump into Ryan, or run a comforting hand down Ryan’s spine, little gestures just to let him know that he was there, and Ryan appreciated it, really, but he also appreciated the silence. Josh would sometimes let Ryan walk ahead and spend a few yards on his own, and it helped. To know that while Ryan was alone, he wasn’t actually alone. 

Ryan wanted to get angry again, though. And he wanted to drink. A lot.

When they got home, Ryan went to where Mikey was sitting on the couch, expecting to see some hard liquor nearby, but there was nothing. He frowned and glanced to the kitchen. There were no bottles anywhere. 

“I’m cutting cold turkey,” Mikey told Ryan. 

Ryan frowned harder. “Why?”

Mikey shrugged. “The way you chugged the tequila last night was pretty hard to watch. Made me realize how shitty it must be for you guys to watch me do the same thing. I don’t want to keep hurting you guys like that. And I don’t want the temptation be so easy for you to succumb to. So Gee and Frankie are gonna make sure I stay sober and Josh is gonna keep you from doing anything permanently stupid.”

Ryan scowled. “I can drink if I want to.”

Mikey looked up at him with a pitying expression. “It’s stupid to turn to poison to help you heal, Ryan.”

Ryan turned away and left.

. . .

Ryan was eventually discovered by Gerard. Ryan had been sitting in his room, staring at his bed, under a onslaught of memories. He wasn’t sure how he had managed sleeping in here last night considering how this was the dream room. This was the room he’d seen Brendon every night. He wondered how many of those nights Brendon had spent in some random girl’s bed. He hadn’t dreamed with Brendon since finding out. He wondered if emotional or psychological betrayal temporarily ended the dreaming ability. He wondered if it was a severing that lasted until the emotions were resolved. He wondered if he even wanted to dream with Brendon again.

“Hey Ry,” Gerard greeted softly, going to sit by Ryan on the floor. “I just wanted to see how you’re doing. We’ve made dinner and stuff. Frank has this awesome alfredo sauce for pasta and we’d love to see you at the dinner table. Ray’s even gonna try to make an appearance.”

“Don’t feel like eating,” Ryan said. He kept his eyes on the bed. “I’m gonna sleep on the couch for the next few weeks.”

Gerard nodded, looking like he understood why. “You can stay at our end of place, if you’d like. I know Josh has been spending most of his nights over with Halsey. Speaking of which, she’s coming to dinner too! Maybe you two could talk about all that crazy smart stuff you usually do?”

Ryan sighed and could barely keep himself from saying something rude. He knew Gerard wouldn’t leave him alone until he agreed to at least one of his propositions. “When’s dinner?”

“Now,” Gerard said with a hopeful smile. “Everyone’s waiting, including Josh. We all wanted to wait to see if you’d be able to make it. Food’s not cold yet, but it won’t take long. You don’t even need shoes, Ry. You can just come over now, in your…” He looked down at what Ryan was wearing, taking stock. “Uh, skinny jeans, stained t-shirt and one sock.” Gerard frowned. “Really, Ry? One sock? I know you’re really hurting right now, but one sock is a little, uh… weird.”

Ryan looked to Gerard with a flat expression. “While asking me to do you a favor, you shouldn’t criticize me or the way I’m dressed. That only makes me a lot more like to say no to whatever it is you want me to do.”

Gerard faltered, but nodded. He, again, understood, and Ryan was beginning to suspect that the makeshift family had sent their most empathetic person to wrangle Ryan up for a reason. Gerard was the best person to get anyone to do anything. He had this puppy dog look to his eyes, sharp teeth, little back-of-the-throat whimpers and everything. Ryan thought that Gerard would be an amazing police interrogator. He’d just guilt the information out of the perpetrator.

Ryan was suddenly wondering if it was a bad idea to agree to dinner, but he didn’t know what else to do. He almost wanted to be with his friends and family, but he just… couldn’t stomach forcing a smile to his face. Not right now. It was too much work, took up too much energy that he didn’t even have to expend. He really wanted to curl up on the floor and stare at the sheets and erase every single memory he had made with Brendon.

He wanted to burn this bed.

“You got a lighter?” Ryan asked. He was surprised when Gerard actually did produce a lighter. He wondered if Gerard was smoking again, maybe Frank. He then didn’t care because he had a purpose. Ryan took the lighter and stood, going to his bathroom for his spray on deodorant. Ryan went back to the bedroom, flicked on the lighter and let the loose on the spray with the lighter alight, aiming for the bed.

Gerard shouted something indiscernible, scrambling around Ryan to try and pull the can from his hand. Ryan watched the flames lick the mattress, catching the sheet and pillowcase on fire. The fire alarm promptly started to wail and Ryan kept the flames aimed at the bed. He found himself hypnotized by the dance of the flames as they ate up every memory that made Ryan’s heart ache.

Gerard snatched the can from Ryan’s hand, still shouting things. He then went to the bathroom and grabbed a cupful of water, dousing the bed. He did that a couple times until the flames were gone. Ryan just watched him.

“A momentary lapse of judgment” was how Ryan would describe it later on. He didn’t really see the harm in what he’d done. He saw the harm in not doing it. He saw the harm in continuing to let that fucking bed exist. There was a lot of harm in continuing to enforce that kind of torture on himself simply because a bed was expensive, and that’s fucking it. He hated that bed now. Gerard put the fire out, but it was still pretty badly scorched. The room smelt like burnt cloth and melted plastic and the sheets that were once a lovely cream color were now dark and scarred with the remains of what Ryan had done.

“Jesus christ, Ryan,” Gerard choked out once he’d put the deodorant away somewhere that Ryan probably wouldn’t be able to find for a few days. Someone shut the fire alarm off, and then Mikey came rushing into the room, looking better than he had in years. Ryan was sure that ending an alcoholic habit would do that to a guy; would improve the person’s stature and put the light back in their eyes and the life in their step. Ryan was also sure withdrawal would hit Mikey pretty soon.

“What happened?” Mikey asked, panting a bit. He then saw the bed and his brow furrowed in confusion. “… I have literally no assumption as to what happened here.”

“I lit our bed on fire,” Ryan told Mikey.

Mikey pointed to himself. “Our bed?” he asked, obviously wanting Ryan to clarify.

“The bed Brendon and I shared.” Ryan sent Mikey a long, telling look. He knew he didn’t need to explain once he put what he’d done into the average person’s understanding. Ryan knew his own head didn’t make sense until he took the time to explain himself. Mikey let out this low noise to show he got it and slowly nodded.

“We’ll get you a new bed,” Mikey told Ryan, reaching out and gently looping his arm around Ryan’s shoulders, pulling him out of the room. “You can sleep at our end of the place for now.” Ryan thought it was cute how Gerard and Mikey both referred to their side of the property with the same phrase. “Josh sounds like he and Halsey are planning some road trip, so I think I’d prefer that you stay close to us for a while.”

“I called Pete,” Ryan told Mikey. Things always spilled past his lips when it came to Mikey. “He said that Brendon’s happy. That he doesn’t care he hurt me. Brendon doesn’t feel anything for me.”

Mikey didn’t say anything for a long time. “Fuck him, Ryan,” Mikey said after a moment. “Just, j-just fuck him. He’s an asshole. You deserve better and you’re gonna get better.”

Ryan was too tired now to argue. He missed the flicker of the flames across his sheets. 

“Dinner?” Gerard offered, looking really shaken after what he’d seen Ryan do. Ryan honestly couldn’t blame him. Pyromania in smaller quarters that usually were meant for human existence could easily relate and lead to developing habits of an arsonist. Ryan definitely didn’t want to become an arsonist, but he also saw the provocative danger in what he’d just done. Especially since he wished it could continue. 

“I’m not crazy,” Ryan said before pulling away from Mikey’s hold and walked down the stairs, crossing the lawn and getting to the next house. True to Gerard’s word, everyone was here, including Ray. Ryan hadn’t seen Ray out of bed in ages. He was honestly surprised with how long Ray was lasting against the brain tumor. Most brain tumors killed pretty quickly once they started to barrage their victim with such serious and noticeable symptoms. Ryan wanted to bring up the surgery for the millionth time, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t keep badgering them.

Ryan sat down at the table before anyone even noticed he was there. Frank was to his right, an empty seat to Ryan’s left, and everyone looked shocked to see Ryan there, but they all quickly smiled in a way that seemed too tight, like they were trying to hide what whatever they’d actually been feeling.

“Nice to see you again,” Halsey commented. Her smile looked lot more force than everyone’s else’s, though honestly, she probably had less practice. Ryan’s friends were really good at faking a smile. A sort of requirement for all of them. Ryan nodded tersely and spooned a bunch of mashed potatoes onto the plate in front of him. Everyone took that as a cue as Gerard came in and sat next to Frank, and Mikey sat beside Ryan. They all got their food quietly, not saying much to each other. Ryan knew it was his fault that this dinner was so awkward, but what the fuck was he supposed to do about it? If he could turn back time and stop Brendon from cheating, he’d be doing it for very different reasons than just to avoid an awkward dinner. 

But fuck, Ryan wanted to break the silence.

“What’s a soulless?” he asked Halsey as he started to eat robotically. He hadn’t lied early— he wasn’t hungry. But he knew not eating the food would be a waste. He glanced up at Halsey to make sure he hadn’t offended her. Honestly, Josh looked more stressed out by the question than Halsey did.

“I’m a soulless,” Halsey replied as she pulled apart her chicken leg. 

“Is that a technical term, or…”

Halsey smirked a bit. “No, not really. It’s a term we give ourselves. A soulless is a person born completely without a soulmate. Not them being dead or not having been born yet— we legitimately are never paired with another person. There’s no explanation for it.”

“How do you know you don’t have a soulmate?” Frank asked, looking interested.

“I’m guessing they don’t have the death dream,” Ryan supplied. Halsey nodded.

“A death dream?” Gerard asked, looking disturbed. “What’s that?”

“Ryan can probably explain it better than me,” Halsey said.

“A death dream is the single dream you have if your soulmate is dead or died before having the chance to dream with them,” Ryan explained. “For every single person who is given a soulmate, they will have their first dream during puberty. You will always have your first soulmate dream sometime after twelve and before your turn nineteen. But if your soulmate is dead, you will have a single dream, usually a few days before your turn nineteen. It’ll be a single, slow exposure of your soulmate’s face. They won’t speak to you, usually won’t open their eyes. It’ll last a few seconds, dream time, and that’s it. Most of the time, you’ll see ghost images of the things your soulmate saw as they died, such as fire from a car accident or the bullet that killed them. There are websites online that publish photos of people that have died, organized by theme of death. It’s morbid, but it’s a pretty reliable way to find your soulmate should they be dead.”

“I didn’t have one of those,” Halsey said. “Like, never. I never had a soulmate dream, but I never had a death dream either.”

“Is that rare?” Josh asked cautiously.

“Actually impossible,” Ryan said.

Halsey smirked. “Or so people say. I will admit, there aren’t many of us. When I turned nineteen and went to a doctor about it, he directed me to a forum for people like me. We took stock, and there are only seventeen soulless worldwide, or at least, worldwide and able to access a computer.”

“And why are you called soulless?” Frank asked. “That seems pretty insensitive, yeah? Like a term assholes gave you.”

“Actually, that’s what we call ourselves,” Halsey said. “We don’t think it’s a bad thing. In fact, it’s unique. And freeing. We call ourselves soulless because it’s like we don’t have souls to be attached to another person. And since we are this way, we’re completely free to do whatever we want with our lives, free in a way that people who have soulmates will never be. Will only dream to be.”

Gerard frowned. “I feel very free.”

Halsey shrugged. “So you think.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Mikey asked, getting defensive. Ryan watched as Mikey reached over and lied a hand over Ray’s. “Just because I have a soulmate doesn’t mean I’m not free to do whatever I want. I changed my career so many times, started a new life in a new place. I did so many things that were completely my own choice. The only difference is that I had someone at my side to do them with.”

“You can’t say that about Ryan,” Halsey pointed out. “He did everything for his soulmate. Gave up on all his dreams for the soulmate tie. And look how that turned out. How can you say Ryan’s free after Brendon—”

“That’s enough,” Frank interrupted harshly. 

“The point is, I’m free,” Halsey said. “In a way only the soulless can ever be. And I’m happy.”

Ryan could see right through her. The charade of arrogance that helped her cope with the thought that maybe the world just thought she wasn’t good enough for anyone, good enough to be paired with someone for the rest of eternity. Cope with the thought that she would die alone and face an eternity of nothingness alone as well. To help her handle the fact that while everyone else had a perfect person for them, she had no one, meaning maybe no other soul wanted hers. Ryan wasn’t offended by the small attack she’d made at him. He just pitied the way she lied to herself to feel better about being alone.

Honestly, Ryan hadn’t seen the whole soulless thing as pitiable until she started to make the soulless out to be something above everyone else. He didn’t see anything wrong with being different, but he saw a lot wrong with using that difference as a way to be superior. He felt like people who were willing to put down others to make themselves feel better were just a more toned down type of bully. He knew that Halsey hadn’t consciously meant it that way, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t be held slightly responsible for the turmoil her passive aggressive accusations had caused. 

“I’m just as free as you,” he told Halsey calmly as he pretended to eat. 

Halsey shrugged. “If you say so.”

Ryan wanted to set things on fire again.

. . .

“There’s no reason to be so angry with her,” Josh tried to reason while he helped Ryan wash the dishes. “I mean, what she said stung a little, I know, but—”

“It’s a coping mechanism,” Ryan finished for him in monotone.

“Exactly,” Josh affirmed. “She doesn’t, like, actually want to put us down, I’m sure. She just wants to bring herself up. To help herself feel better and, and… all of that.” Josh ran his hands through his hair. “I just… feel like she was trying to say she’s better than me.”

“Maybe she was,” Ryan mumbled. “But it shouldn’t matter. She didn’t want to hurt you, I’m sure. Maybe us, but not you.”

Josh looked distraught. “But if she—”

“Fuck, Josh, I would fucking love to be your therapist right now, but I have so much fucking shit messing me up right now, and I just tried to set my bed on fire!”

Josh fell quiet.

Ryan was quiet too, for a moment. “… I’m sorry. I don’t… I don’t know why I said that.”

“No, you’re right,” Josh said, not meeting Ryan’s eyes. “You are so fucking right, Ryan. We tend to dump shit all over you and not care if you're being crushed under the weight. Maybe it’s not that we don’t care, really, but we definitely don’t see, you know? We don’t catch on that you’re crumbling right in front of our eyes. I’m sorry, Ryan. You deserve better. You deserve a friend who isn’t selfish and shitty and horrible to you. You deserve a better friend than me. Everyone does.”

Ryan wanted to punch something. Josh didn’t understand how apologies worked. You didn’t apologize, then make it about yourself with self deprecating comments. If you try to apologize and then only put yourself down in the apology, you were continuing to beg for attention and make things about yourself. And that was just… 

That pissed Ryan the fuck off.

So he got up, rested a hand on Josh’s shoulder for only a second, then left. He did not have the energy, nor the emotional strength to deal with anyone else at the moment. He would love to pretend that he had all the room in the world for everyone’s problems, but that’d be a lie. Ryan was only human.   
“Ryan,” Mikey said, getting in his way. “We’ve got the futon in the office set up as a bed, but I was wondering if you’d like to choose one of your amazing beds for yourself?” Mikey was smiling impishly as he offered. “Ray and I would be overjoyed to have you in our bed tonight, but I know that Gee and Frankie would be incredibly jealous of us should we be the lucky ones.”

“I’m going to Halsey’s place with her,” Josh said as he brushed past Ryan and went out the door.

Ryan grit his teeth. “… I can stay alone. I don’t mind.”

Mikey pursed his lips, still looking to the door Josh had disappeared through. “See, Ry?” Mikey said, voice lowered. “I get that you’re hurting and shit, but none of us want you unsupervised. Call us assholes or whatever you want, but we’d just prefer to have eyes on you at all times until we’re sure that you won’t do anything… irreversible.”

Ryan frowned. Mikey raised a brow, issuing a challenge. Ryan knew that Mikey’s concerns weren’t unfounded, he knew that he was a fucking closet case and completely predictable when it came to how Ryan dealt with grief. Ryan was a broken record, and he definitely knew he shouldn’t be trusted. Ryan wanted to ponder how much of a nuisance he was to his friends, but that wouldn’t help anything. It was also so fucking repetitive. 

“I’ll stay with Frank and Gerard,” Ryan said. And before Mikey could feel hurt, Ryan explained. “Ray is getting weaker every day, Mikey, and if something happens in my head while I’m down for the count, I don’t want to risk hurting Ray. I’m unpredictable in sleep. You know that. I could wake up with another dent in my cranium, screaming. Ray doesn’t need that right now.”

Mikey pursed his lips, but he didn’t argue. “I’ll miss your bony cuddles, especially that pointy elbow digging into my gut in the middle of the night.”

“Better your gut than your dick, right?” Ryan snorted, nudging Mikey a little just to show he was being playful and doing his best to not be such downer. “I’ll go crash Frank and Gee’s bedroom, keep them from having sex. They could strain something with how often they fuck, you know? That shit’s dangerous.”

“Please keep whatever you see to yourself,” Mikey said.

Ryan laughed a bit, and was happy to realize it was pretty genuine. He bid Mikey goodnight and went upstairs, knocking on Gerard and Frank’s door and informing them that he would be spending the night with them, under Mikey’s orders. He was surprised when they eagerly welcomed him, and even more surprised to see they actually had pants on. Ryan accepted Gerard’s offering of sweatpants to sleep in, then went to the bathroom and changed. Frank jeered a little about denying him some sort of sexy strip show, but Ryan just flipped him off.

He fell asleep between Gerard and Frank and tried not to laugh at how absurd it was when Frank reached all the over Ryan just to grab Gerard’s ass.

. . .

Ryan was awoken at two in the morning by his phone buzzing. He quickly snatched it up and darted out of bed (working hard to squirm out of between Frank and Gerard) to keep the loud, obnoxious ringtone from waking the other two men. He quickly answered the phone without thinking about who it could be. “Hello?” he whispered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t roused anyone. 

_“Ryan!”_

Ryan startled when Brendon’s familiar voice hit him like a hammer to the skull. His grip on the phone tightened painfully, but at least his hands weren’t shaking. Ryan wondered if he was supposed to respond.

 _“Oh my goodness, Ryan,”_ Brendon giggled. There was a drunken slur to his voice. _“You wouldn’t believe how silly everyone is being! Pete won’t even talk to me, and Travie keeps going on about how dumb the photographers or popcorn are, but like? Why? They’re doing their job? Stupid Travie, thinking people doing their job is a bad thing. They’re making money and being a con… conducive? Constructive. They’re being good people.”_

“Why are you calling me?” Ryan asked, trying not to sound as wrecked as he felt. 

_“Because you’re the only person worth talking to,”_ Brendon replied, sounding like he was definitely pouting. Ryan wished he could reach through the phone and slap that look of Brendon’s face. He clenched his fist to deny himself that evil sort of behavior. Ryan wasn’t his father. _“You make me smile,”_ Brendon added with a giggle.

“Do you have any idea how much you’ve hurt me?” Ryan asked. He had a sudden realization that Brendon honestly might not understand what he’d done and how much it had destroyed him.

 _“I didn’t mean to hurt you,”_ Brendon said, sounding even more childish. _“They’re all just so pretty, Ryan! They look like supermodels, and they all want me. I like feeling wanted.”_

“I want you too,” Ryan whimpered, deciding he didn’t care if he sounded weak or dependent. Ryan’s entire existence was talking about how pretty girls with cellophane smiles gave him fulfillment while expecting Ryan to understand this, accept it, and forgive him. Ryan was nowhere near the first part of that list. “God, Brendon you can’t… cheat. On someone. Anyone. It’s a horrible thing to do. It’s one of the worst things you could do.”

“But I just wanted to have fun,” Brendon said.

“That isn’t how you have fun, Brendon!” Ryan snapped. “You fucking betrayed me! You took my trust in you and crushed it under foot! You fucking asshole, how could you do this to me?!”

 _“Don’t yell at me,”_ Brendon said, sounding like he was starting to feel a little down. Good. He deserved to feel like shit. Ryan hoped Brendon wasn’t so drunk that he wouldn’t be able to remember this later.

“I’m gonna fuck yell at you, you son of a bitch,” Ryan seethed. “I don’t care that you’ve been through fucking hell, so have a lot of other people, and they haven’t torn other peoples’ hearts out! Cheating on someone is inexcusable, and I don’t know if I want to see you ever fucking again, do you hear me?! I have put too much on the fucking line for you just for you to throw it away and expect me to be fine with it!”

 _“You’re being so mean,”_ Brendon whined.

“Fuck you!” Ryan shouted before throwing his phone and breaking it on the wall. He watched the phone fall into three separate pieces, saw the screen shatter and glitch. That would be the second phone he’d broken this semester.

“Ryan?”

Ryan looked up and saw Gerard standing in the doorway of his bedroom with a solemn expression.

“Come back to bed,” Gerard said. He reached out to beckon Ryan to him.

Ryan stumbled into his chest and went back to bed with silent tear tracking down his face and soaking the pillow beneath his cheek. At least Frank didn’t complain about the wet spot by his temple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> www.wellthisisprettyrisque.tumblr.com


	8. Look Into Chaos and Call It God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sometimes you have to burn a few bridges before rebuilding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit friends look at this
> 
> i would like to thank all my lovely friends who have allowed me to use their laptops so i could get this shit out on schedule, especially the owner of the laptop i'm using now to post this.
> 
> my laptop is a funny story, though, and very long, so i'll just say that i had to send it in again for more repairs. but hey, i got this out on time, so i have no excuse for not getting the next chap out on schedule either
> 
> i forgot how to HTML-- my beta is **cemeterydrivethrough** <3 i'll definitely figure out how to edit that on a computer i'm familiar with.

There was something that could be said about going through what Ryan was going through.

It sucked.

It one hundred percent sucked fucking ass, and Ryan would never, ever, fucking ever wish this sort of thing on anyone (except actual mass murders and shit, but they weren’t the average). Ryan was angry for most of his day and couldn’t do much about it. The weekend was almost over, tomorrow being Sunday and his last chance to actually rehabilitate himself and become someone presentable and able to provide the education these students and paid good money for. He wanted to be angry, of course, because he deserved to be angry, but he also needed to fucking work. He had shit to do.

And there was a lot to be said about being cheated on. There were the moments where Ryan forgot why he was angry, but was reminded all over again by a nonchalant comment or a worried glance from a friend. Then it would feel like he’d been hit with a car— Brendon was a son of a bitch and had cheated on him, probably multiple times, with a bunch of fucking pretty bimbos that had such unimportant lives that they could afford to follow a band across the country. Ryan was so fucking pissed, because it was almost like Brendon was punishing him for getting a job. How fucking rude was that? Ryan needed to make money, needed to have a god damn purpose. He didn’t have a stellar voice like Brendon. He couldn’t own the world with his talent and slim hips because he didn’t have either of those.

There was so much to be said about how people were treating him, too. Like he was made of porcelain, or was a little kid getting his first shot. It wasn’t like this was the first time Ryan’s life had threatened to fall apart. It wasn’t even the first time that the falling apart was of Brendon’s doing. Ryan didn’t appreciate being mothered, considering his history with mothers, though he did love the pancakes Mikey made him the morning after Ryan destroyed his phone.

How stupid had that been? Breaking his phone. Jesus. Phones didn't grow on trees. Neither did money. They were made of a type of cloth and plastic, for fuck’s sake. And Ryan wasn’t going to ask Gerard for any sort of help. Ryan could afford a phone on his own, but he was frustrated with himself for being so stupid about it. Throwing a phone. What a waste. Like a child throwing away their lollipop during some meaningless fit. 

The only person who wasn’t treating Ryan like he was fragile was Frank, and Ryan could appreciate why. Frank hardly ever treated anyone delicately. He was known for leaving bruises and bite marks on Gerard’s body. Consensual, of course, and Gerard always looked so proud of the marks. But it was no secret that Frank could be a brute and didn’t see much point in coddling people. He wasn’t afraid to tell Ryan when to suck it up nowadays. Ryan wished Frank had started doing that much sooner.

“So, you know the smoldering, half assed ashes up in your bedroom?” Frank asked, sounding like he was being rhetorical. Of course Ryan knew about his partially burnt bed. “I say you and I grab it, load it into Jon’s truck, and we burn it. Completely. Out in the desert, by Palm Springs.”

“That’s a bit of a drive,” Ryan commented.

“Have you had the In’N’Out over there?” Frank asked. “I’m a fucking vegetarian, but I love smelling that stuff.”

“Their roads aren’t well lit,” Ryan pointed out.

“Cars have headlights for a reason.”

“It’s getting pretty cold out, and you’ve got the whole anemia or whatever thing.”

“Are you gonna keep making up excuses like a fucking bitch, or are we gonna burn that bed in a final, feral “fuck you” to Brendon?”

Ryan smirked. “I like the sound of that.”

. . .

“The entire science teacher body misses you,” Jon said as he drove. The mattress was loaded up in the back of Jon’s truck, with the blankets and bedding and everything. They were driving down the ten with Frank in the back of the car, sticking his head out the window and shouting explicits as they passed a minivan that had cut them off a few miles back. “You’re the only person that knows the perfect ratio of coffee grounds to water. Everyone’s complaining about how shitty the coffee is now.”

“It was only two days,” Ryan said. 

Jon snorted. “Have you ever gone two days without decent coffee? It’s hell, Ryan. Watery, washed down hell. Like lukewarm water. Honestly, Ryan, it tastes like we went and wrapped a pair of panty hose filled with coffee grounds around a faucet, ran the sorry excuse for hot water, and drank it straight from the stream. It’s revolting.”

“That’s a big word for a scientist,” Ryan commented with a fond look. “Should I write you a formula for the coffee? The exact number of beans that you must then grind in a precise way with an exact temperature of water? Two hundred fifty-seven, by the way. Fahrenheit”

“So exact,” Jon moaned, sounding like a dork. “I love exacts. They turn me on. Cassie sometimes shows me math problems to get me off. It’s like fireworks. White fireworks that defy the laws of physics, because wet stuff generally isn’t flammable when it’s discharged from the human body.”

“Oh god, stop talking,” Frank laughed after he brought his head back into the car. He’d apparently said his fill. “I don’t wanna hear about sex unless it’s Gee spread out on the bed and telling me everything he wants me to do to him in detail.”

“Okay, now you gotta stop talking,” Ryan said.

“I just bought him this new lingerie set,” Frank giggled. “All black lace and a cute little corset. Panties with a tiny bow on the front. God, he looks so good in it. He’s putting on weight, too, which I fucking love. His thighs are so big. I’m fucking drooling. Look, Ryan!” Frank leaned over the console to point at his own face. “I’m drooling!”

“You’re so gross,” Ryan said, putting a hand on Frank’s face to push him back into his seat. Jon pulled off of the interstate, getting off and driving to the In’N’Out Frank had been raving about.

“I’ll steal all of your guys’ french fries,” Frank said when Jon asked if he wanted to stop somewhere with a vegetarian option. “Those fries are the bomb diggity. I could eat an entire potato farm in french fry form.”

“Substance addiction,” Jon said with a solemn nod. “It consumes lives.”

“Fuck you, Walker,” Frank laughed, kicking the back of Jon’s chair as they went through the drive through. “These french fries are the best kind of addiction.”

Jon got their food and started to drive in the direction of nothing. “We need to find legitimate desert,” he explained. “Somewhere that people won’t be able to see the fire and call the cops. Wouldn’t want to get arrested for disorderly conduct, you know? Or danger stuff. What’s the fire risk today? Did anyone bother to look?”

“Fuck that,” Frank declared. “Let them see our display of manhood! Witness the expulsion of our anger and wrath! We are to be feared! We cannot be caged! And we fucking love burning things! Let them catch us, friends. Let them be envious of our ability to truly express ourselves. Let them gather and view the flames and know, truly, that we are animals at heart.”

“I watch Game of Thrones too,” Jon said. 

Ryan laughed and then pointed out towards the other side of the hills with the windmills, but opposite of the mountain that he couldn’t name. “Why not in that direction?”

“Seems as good as anywhere,” Jon conceded before following Ryan’s finger and breaking the speed limit.

. . .

“So fucking heavy,” Frank grunted as he, Jon, and Ryan tried to lift the mattress from the trunk.

“Carries the weight of my mistakes,” Ryan said, going for ominous, but not really liking how serious he unintentionally sounded. “God, I’m getting so fucking angsty from this. We need to fucking burn it before I say anything worse.”

“Hush, Ryan,” Jon soothed as they dropped the mattress to the dirt of the desert. Ryan was glad they’d taken the truck, because after following road after road, all the roads became dirt at a certain point. Jon’s truck had four wheel drive, and it had practically saved the whole day. Jon got back in the truck and drove a few yards away from where they’d let the mattress drop, then got back out and came to Frank and Ryan’s side. He then produced a tin can that was used to hold mints and opened it to reveal five joints, rolled pristinely and sitting pretty. 

“I completely support your friendship with Ryan,” Frank told Jon with a grin. Jon looked really proud of himself for receiving praise.

Ryan stared at the blunts, gears in his head slowly turning. “… You guys brought stuff to light the fire, right?” Ryan sure as hell hadn’t.

Frank and Jon had the gall to look horrified before they both started laughing.

“Of course I remembered shit!” Jon said. “I’ve got lighter fluid in the back seat along with a box of matches. Plenty of shit to start a healthy blaze. We’ve got your back, Ryan, you know that. We’ve got you.”

“God, you guys suck,” Ryan said as Frank went to the truck and came back out with three bottles of lighter fluid and the matches. Frank had manic grin on his face.

“I should’ve brought my camera,” Frank said. “Get some photos for the new bar.”

“How is that going?” Jon asked. “I need a new place to get smashed.”

“I’ll fill you in once I’ve got something to say,” Frank laughed. He handed Ryan a bottle of fluid. “Ryan? Do you want all the honors or would you prefer the efficiency of teamwork?”

Ryan snorted and took the offered bottle. “You guys can help douse it. But I wanna light the match.” He was kinda happy the cannabis had been forgotten. He wanted to be sober for this moment.

Frank nodded. “That’s fair.” He tossed Jon a bottle and then opened his own, pouring it all over the mattress, excited. He kept glancing up at Ryan and Jon, obviously wanting them to join him. Ryan set his expression and joined him, pouring the fluid all over the sheets. He did his best to push aside the memories that resurfaced as the sheets he’d known for years were stained. He almost wished he could have slept in this bed one last time, but he knew that would have only been a sick, self-induced torture. He knew he was better off this way.

They stepped back once all the lighter fluid had been used and Frank offered Ryan a single match. “Make it count,” Frank said. “We have a shit ton more, but that won’t look as cool.”

Ryan rolled his eyes and brought his foot up to his knee, wanting to show Frank up. He dragged the match head over the side of the sole of his shoe, the friction of the rubber lighting the match. He looked up and saw Frank and Jon were both impressed. Ryan was mostly shocked that his attempt at being a badass had actually succeeded. He didn't waste any time in reveling his success and tossed the match at the mattress with little pomp. It wasn’t until the flames spread, blue and yellow like a soundwave, that Ryan fully understood the gravity of what he’d done.

He wished he still had his engagement ring so he could burn it alongside this mattress. Brendon had taken his entire wardrobe on tour because he was an attention whore like that. All his toiletries and books were goon. Brendon hadn’t wanted to clutter up Ryan’s life with his things while being away. This bed was the last thing of Brendon’s in Ryan’s home.

The flames grew higher, reaching up and above Frank’s height, becoming something formidable. Ryan stared into the fire and saw faces— William and Gabe, mostly. It was odd, but he wondered if those was how Gabe had felt after learning William was gone? Not the betrayal, but… the absolute hopelessness. The horrifying thought that his future was going to be empty. No light, no companionship, no love. Ryan knew, somewhere deep in his consciousness, that there was certainly the possibility of him finding someone new to becoming romantically involved with, but the freshness of the betrayal was making it seem unfeasible. Ryan would never find anyone else. Ryan would be alone for the rest of his life.

Fuck, what if that was a good thing?

“Maybe I’m better off alone,” Ryan said as he watched the flame eat away at the bed. He was watching his last connection with Brendon burn. “Maybe I’m not supposed to be with anyone. Maybe I’m happier alone.”

Frank and Jon were very quiet.

“Maybe this is a good thing,” Ryan said. It felt like a lie.

. . .

When Ryan and Frank got home, Ryan wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep forever, but stopped when he saw Gerard and Mikey and Ray were all waiting at the table. Mikey was looking especially anxious while Gerard just looked infinitely relieved that Frank had returned.Ryan sighed and sat at the table because it was obvious that he was meant to do so. He looked between Mikey and Gerard as Frank also sat down, figuring this talk was going to be instigated by one of the brothers.

“I talked to my doctor,” Ray said.

Ryan actually jumped in his seat a little. It had been so long since Ray had spoken. He sounded exhausted. 

“I know that Ryan has been… adamant. About a certain procedure.” Ray looked apologetically to Ryan, and that just wasn’t fair. Ryan hadn’t wanted to make Ray feel bad about saying no, he just couldn’t fucking watch his friend die. “And recently my doctor has been bringing it up more and more frequently with every radiation treatment. She kept trying to refer me to psychiatrists and other people because she couldn’t understand why I kept saying no, and after a while, even I didn’t understand why I was saying no.”

Mikey sat up straighter, eyes wide like he couldn’t believe what he thought he was hearing.

“So, I-I talked to her about the procedure, and she said that the likelihood of the dreams being severed would be basically guaranteed.”

Mikey’s face fell. Ryan could tell he was preparing for a definite no to the surgery. Gerard reached over to his brother and rested a hand on his leg to comfort him.

Ray took in a shaky breath. “But… I’m gonna do it.”

“Oh thank god,” Mikey gasped, hands coming up to cover his face as he started to cry. He then bought his hands back down to hold Ray’s hands, shaking visibly and smiling with all the relief in the world. “I thought you were gonna die,” he choked out, tears streaming down his face. “I thought you w-were gonna leave me. Thank you, thank you!”

Ray looked horrified. “I-I’d had no idea I’d been causing you this much pain,” he said, his own larger hand covering Mikey’s. Their fingers twisted together and Mikey looked like he wanted to crawl inside Ray’s skin. “Mikey, I’m sorry,” Ray said sincerely. “I don’t know how I could’ve thought you’d be better off with me gone. The dreams aren’t worth my life, a-and I should’ve known from the beginning that even if the dreams end, what I have with you won’t.”

Mikey sobbed. “You’re a fucking asshole,” he said through a bit of laughter before leaning forward and kissing Ray. Ryan watched carefully to make sure they didn’t swap any spit. “Fuck, wish we could go to the park to celebrate,” Mikey told Ray once he’d pulled away, resting their foreheads together and smiling shakily. 

“Did she tell you anything about the status of the tumor?” Ryan’s greatest concern at this point was whether or not the surgery would even solve the problem at this point. If a brain tumor was too matured and too large, no surgery would succeed in taking all of the cancer out. They’d only be prolonging the inevitable. 

“They said that the tumor has been moving miraculously slowly,” Ray told Ryan, managing a smile of his own. “The radiation has been working at keeping it from growing, it just hasn’t been successful in destroying the tumor. It’s why she has continued to encourage me to get the surgery, and I’m just sorry that it took me so long to finally gain the courage to agree to it. I just never wanted to lose Mikey, you know? Or at least, I didn’t want to lose the connection. I didn’t want to lose my soulmate.”

“Except Mikey wasn’t going to go anywhere after the surgery,” Gerard pointed out. He was looking a lot more relaxed. Ryan hadn’t noticed how strung out Gerard had been until he had started to look better. 

“I know that,” Ray sighed. “I always have, I just… I was too caught up in my own fears. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Ryan said. “We’re just happy you changed your mind.”

Ray nodded. “And, uh, in light of my decision, and the fact that I think a lot of us could use a little something to cheer us up, I was going to propose a movie night? For the family? We haven’t had one of those in a long time, and Ryan starts work again tomorrow, so this would really be the best night for all of us.”

“I’ve met all my deadlines for the month,” Gerard said.

“I dropped out,” Frank added.

“I’ve got nowhere else I could want to be,” Mikey said, looking at Ray like he was falling in love all over again.

Ryan just shrugged his consent.

“We should marathon Jurassic Park,” Frank suggested. 

Gerard eagerly nodded. “I would love to watch countless people be devoured by prehistoric creatures!”

“It’ll be good for us,” Mikey said, watching Ryan. Ryan looked back at him and hunched his shoulders defensively. He didn’t want to be the focus of this night, he wanted to celebrate the fact that Ray was going to get the surgery. Ray was going to help himself and save this fucking family. Ryan had never, ever considered what life would be like should Ray die, because he never had the stomach to imagine such a horrible future. Why would Ryan spend his free time thinking about things that tore him open like a science experiment? But now that he knew it was no longer a possibility (fingers crossed), Ryan couldn’t help but imagine the reality.

Mikey wouldn't live long. Whether he killed himself or died of heartbreak, Mikey would not be able to live long without Ray. Ryan knew that no one would ever expect Mikey to keep going, anyways. He remembered what Mikey was like before meeting Ray— quiet and shy and stuck in his own shell. Ryan almost hadn't recognized Mikey when they’d been picking him up from the airport in Chicago all those years ago. Mikey had grown into his skin and become the confident, cool, fucking punk of a person with amazing hair and very little drive in life, which was what made him Mikey fucking Way. Ryan knew Mikey would give up if Ray had died. And no one would’ve expected any less.

Ryan stood from the table and went to the living room, deciding to escape the noise and take the initiative. He turned on the TV and chose whatever movie FX was playing, knowing it would be a fair compromise. Enough shitty plot for Gerard, enough mindless violence for Frank and enough special effects for Mikey. He looked back to make sure that everyone was following him. Once Ray was sitting on the couch, wrapped up in blankets with Mikey lying delicately between his legs, Ryan took a spot on the floor and tried to remember the plot to the second Pirates of the Caribbean. 

The movie was shit, but Ryan was settled between Gerard’s knees and Frank kept throwing bits of cheese at Kiera Knightly on the screen. Ryan felt an ache in his stomach for Josh, but that old mattress was in the middle of the desert, destroyed and never to be used again, and Ryan was tentatively happy.

. . .

Ryan didn’t say much aside from what was on the slides in school the next day. Jon was at his side as often as he could, and whenever Jon couldn’t be there, Kellin was, talking about Vic and Vic’s brother and the bad jokes he’d heard from his friend Justin and do everything he could to not talk about Ryan’s soulmate. Ryan’s classmates weren’t so kind. By the second class of his day, he had to start telling students he wouldn’t be accepting questions about anything but the slides. Usually he opened up the end of class to answer psychology questions the students could have, but he couldn’t do it that day. Not after a girl had asked about the age difference between him and Brendon in the first five minutes of his first class. Ryan couldn’t answer questions like that. He didn’t want to curse Brendon out in the middle of class.

“I just think Vic needs get on some sort of medication, or at least stop watching TV,” Kellin sighed over lunch. Today’s menu was something Asian that Ryan couldn’t name. It was spicy, and Jon and Kellin were watching Ryan like they expected him to be sad. Too bad. “But he won’t listen to me. I don’t know how to make him listen.”

“Why don’t you and I have dinner with him?” Ryan suggested, an idea that came out of the blue. “Maybe I can talk to him. Or at least get to the bottom of the problem. Most people avoid medication because they don’t want to feel out of control, or admit that they are not in control. Maybe if he talks to a professional, he can be a little more assured in the purpose of taking medication.”

“You’re a professional?” Jon teased with a cheeky grin. Ryan kicked him under the table with a crooked smile.

“I’m a doctor, not a douche bag,” Ryan replied. 

“You’d really do that?” Kellin asked. “I mean, he can be a jerk when he feels cornered. And Mike isn’t afraid to beat people up for him.”

“I have people who will beat Mike up in defense,” Ryan said. “And I don't mind. I’d kinda like to be able to try to help someone else right now.”

Kellin looked pleased as he ate his noodles. Ryan could see the plans formulating in Kellin’s head.

“How are classes going?” Jon asked, watching Ryan.

Ryan shrugged. “I mean, as long as I don’t hear any questions about Brendon, then I’m good. It’s gonna be an uphill road, but it’ll be okay in the end, right? I’m good. I don’t want to deal with students. I don’t want to deal with people trying to get the latest scoop. I’m just lucky no one has called me claiming to be from a magazine or something ridiculous.”

“No paparazzi at your door?” Jon asked.

“The media is a bunch of savages and we should abolish paparazzi,” Kellin said.

Ryan and Jon both glanced to him. Ryan wasn’t necessarily used to Kellin’s blunt statements of near anarchy, but he really appreciated the honesty.

“You guys need to bring me next time you burn a mattress,” Kellin added. “I have stuff I need to burn. Don’t ditch me next time, yeah?” He threw away his styrofoam container and stood, wiping his palms on his pants. “I’ve got a final to study for. I’ll talk to you guys later.”

“Bye, Kellin,” Ryan said. “We’ll drag you along next time.”

“Don’t forget that dinner!” Kelvin called out as he left.

Ryan squinted in thought and wondered what he should risk trying to cook something.

. . .

He went home and instantly sought out someone in the house who he could possibly fill his mind with. He didn’t like being alone because it just made him angry these past few days. He thought too much about how awful Brendon was and was always tempted to do something stupid and violent. Half the time, Ryan wanted to get drunk. He finally understood how his father had become an abusive alcoholic. It was easy to turn to the poison of alcohol when you were so fucking angry at a person you had once trusted and love. Ryan almost didn’t blame his father for becoming a drunk after Ryan’s mother had left like that.

He eventually found Gerard in his studio, expect Gerard was moving everything out of the room and putting it all into the bedroom. Ryan leaned against the doorway and watched Gerard pack his Copic markers with a confused frown. “What’re you doing?”

Gerard jumped and hit his head on the bottom of his drawing table. “Oh, hi Ryan!” he greeted with a wide smile. “Ray and Mikey are at the doctor’s office, talking about the surgery. They’d like you to come to the next appointment since you know more about the soulmate psychology than the doctor probably does. You’re more of a mind person than a brain person.” Gerard laughed. Ryan frowned harder, because Gerard was acting oddly cheerful. “Frank is out looking for a place to rent so he can start is bar. I’m just clearing out my workspace.”

“I can see that,” Ryan said. “But why?”

Gerard smiled widely. “We’re turning it into a nursery!”

Ryan’s eyes went wide. 

“It’s gonna be for the kid we’re adopting,” Gerard continued, and shit, Ryan had completely forgotten that that was a thing. Shit, Gerard and Frank were adopting a kid. “I was wondering what we should paint the walls,” Gerard added. “I wanna paint them something non-gender specific, but Frank really wants to paint them pink. Do you think that’ll impress feminine characteristics regardless of gender?”

Ryan snorted. “I think color representing a gender is bullshit and you should put whatever you want. Just buy the kids the toys they want to let them develop whatever characteristics they have. Colors don’t mean shit when it comes to the direct development of gender and people who say they do are misguided.”

Gerard grinned. “I liked the idea of pink too.”

“Then paint the walls pink,” Ryan said. “You’re not gonna raise the kid in a way that adheres to whatever cultural normative are given to pink unless you think the kid would benefit from it. It doesn’t matter.”

“I’ll text Frank to pick up a nice pastel pink,” Gerard said, eagerly pulling out his phone. Ryan smiled a bit. 

“Want some help?” he offered, deciding he would much rather be helping Gerard build a new future than think about his own.

“Oh fuck yeah!” Gerard exclaimed, scooting aside to make room for Ryan to sit on the floor beside him, which Ryan did. He reached out and started to help Gerard organize all the Copics into the special cases Gerard had. Gerard had fucking hundreds of these markers, and the boxers were labeled specific things, like “pastels,” “skin tones,” “monochromatic,” “grayscale.” Ryan was pretty sure this was the most organized aspect of Gerard’s life. Hell, the only organized aspect of Gerard’s life. 

“Where are you gonna move all this?” Ryan asked.

“I was actually going to move it all into our attic,” Gerard said, and Ryan was very surprised.

“There’s an attic?” he asked.

Gerard nodded, glancing above his head. “It’s pretty messy, and I’m gonna need to lie down a floor with wood or something. I was honestly thinking I should hire someone, but Ray seems like he really wants to help. You know how handy he can be. I was just gonna buy what he recommended and then let him sit there and tell me what to do.”

“If it’s on a weekend, I can definitely help,” Ryan said. He was looking forward to not thinking.

Gerard grinned. “I would fucking love that. Could you hand me those reds over there? I need them for the autumnal box.”

Ryan snorted as he did so. “Not gonna lie, Gee— that’s fucking gay.”

Gerard giggled and threw a marker at Ryan. Then he made a frantic noise of panic and searched for the same marker in the pile of other markers it had fallen in, mumbling to himself about how he’d almost been done with the rustic colors and how this had been the last marker, and how he was never going to find it in time.

Ryan smiled and handed him the marker. It just looked brown to him, but Gerard insisted it was more than that. “I think it’s nice that you’re so orderly here,” he said. “It’s a good thing for people to have at least one place of organization in their life. It gives them something solid and steady to rely on in their life and also aids in keeping neurons dedication to puzzle solving fresh. And it’s good for anxiety.”

Gerard grinned and shrugged. “I need to be able to find things easily when it comes to coloring and inking. It’s important to have all your tools laid out for you. People say artists are crazy and disorganized, but most have a method to their madness. It’s not like I’m super clean— that’s Frankie. But I’ve got some sort of system, you know? And I’m happy with it.”

Ryan nodded. “You’re gonna be an amazing father, Gerard,” he said softly. He just wanted to let Gerard know he had Ryan’s confidence. “I’ve seen a lot of bad relationships, specifically with parents. I’ve experienced my own bad relationships, and I just… I can tell you’re gonna do everything you can to keep this kid happy and safe and let them be their own person. And that’s an amazing thing to be.”

Gerard smiled shyly. “Thanks, Ry. You’re gonna be an amazing god father.”

Ryan’s work at sorting out the hundreds of pinks faltered. “W-what?”

Gerard looked to Ryan. “Didn’t Frank tell you? I feel like he told you. We want to make you the godfather.”

“What about Mikey?” was the first thing out of Ryan’s mouth.

“Mikey will already have the automatic title of uncle,” Gerard said. “So will Ray. You’re really the only family I have that doesn’t have my last name. I mean, I love Josh and shit, and I consider him to be great and stuff, but he hasn’t been around like you have. He hasn’t done the same things you have. You’re the one who got me off my ass and got me to propose. You saved our relationship from a nasty fight. And you helped us through Gabe and William’s death. You’ve done a lot for us and I want to name you godfather, in case something should happen to all of us. I would want her to go to you. I know you’d be a much better father than you think.”

Ryan grimaced. “I’d prefer to just spoil the kid and not be in charge of anything beyond an hour of babysitting.”

Gerard laughed and set aside a filled container. Ryan saw that the colors seemed to be organized in a completely random way, like a vomited rainbow. Maybe he’d been jumped the gun in saying Gerard was orderly. “Will you accept the title of godfather to my child?”

“Sure,” Ryan said dazedly, still a little floored that he was being asked. He reached for a few black markers to try and sort when his replacement flip phone started buzzing in his back pocket. Ryan pulled the phone out and didn’t recognize the number. He only had the contacts of people who lived here and then Pete and Patrick on the phone. He still was nervous to answer, and then he decided that he just wouldn’t. Ryan put the phone aside and went back to sorting without a word. Gerard raised a brow, but didn’t say anything, either. Then the phone started to buzz against a minute or so later. Ryan looked to the screen and saw Pete’s name.

“Hey, Pete,” he said when he answered, tucking the phone between his ear and his shoulder. He handed Gerard this weird green.

_“It’s Brendon, actually.”_

Ryan let his free hand drop to his lap. “Why are you calling me from Pete’s phone?” 

_“You didn’t answer me when I called from my own.”_

“I broke my phone. I don’t have your number in this one.”

Brendon sighed heavily into the receiver and Ryan’s chest clenched in white hot anger. How fucking dare Brendon act like Ryan was the one causing the problem? Ryan hadn’t done a god damn thing. _“Of course you say broke your phone,”_ Brendon said. _“Is that really what happened? Or is it just an excuse?”_

“Fuck you,” Ryan spat. 

Brendon paused for a long moment. _“… What?”_ He sounded like he couldn’t believe Ryan had said that to him. Ryan wanted to laugh.

“I said fuck you, Brendon,” Ryan repeated. Gerard’s eyes went wide when he heard the name and he started making this abortive gesture like he wanted Ryan to just hang up. Ryan wasn’t going to do that. He wasn’t going to submit again. 

_“You, you seem really angry…”_

“You fucking think?!” Ryan exploded, sitting up because he had to move and expend some energy. “You cheated on me, Brendon! Multiple times, probably, with a bunch of random girls! You think you’re some fucking hotshot now who can do whatever he wants just because he’s a superstar? You think there are no consequences? You were fucking caught, Brendon! You cheated on me and I am so fucking pissed that I could hurt you!”

 _“Please don’t yell at me,”_ Brendon whimpered. Normally, that small, shaky voice would have Ryan stopping in his tracks and backing up and doing everything he could to fix things, bend over backwards and apologizing his fucking lungs empty, but now? Now he knew Brendon deserved to be yelled at. Maybe he hadn’t been yelled at enough. Maybe if Ryan had been a bit harder on him, none of this fucking bullshit would’ve happened.

“I’m gonna keep fucking yelling,” Ryan growled. “Because I’m starting to think that you honestly and genuinely never cared about me. Never cared about my emotions or my health or my fucking sanity. That you never cared about everything I did for you, how I gave up my whole life for you! I know people are gonna spout bullshit at me, saying that I shouldn’t have ever done all of that and expected something in return, but god fucking dammit, they have no idea what this feels like, and neither do you, so fuck them and fuck you! This isn’t something you can just duck your head and pout your way out of! What you’ve done to me is unforgivable and I will never, ever trust you again!”

 _“I didn’t mean to hurt you,”_ Brendon said uselessly, like that fucking mattered.

“And drunk drivers don’t mean to fucking kill people,” Ryan shot back. “But they still have to pay for what they did, and so do you! I hope you’re fucking happy, Brendon. I hope you got what you wanted. Pretty girls that are willing to suck your cock for free? Is that satisfying to you?”

 _“Kenny was telling me that it would make them all so happy!”_ Brendon said, sounding desperate, which was good. Ryan wanted Brendon to be desperate for Ryan’s forgiveness. _“And then one of them was talking about h-how she was suicidal and never been kissed, and so I kissed her, and then she was all over me, and she was so pretty too, Ryan! I didn’t know what to do!”_

“So you fucking slept with them?!”

 _“It was only one girl,”_ Brendon said, sniffling.

Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose. That was an honest comfort. “I was under the impression that there was more than one girl. And that you’ve been parading them around?”

 _“Talk,”_ Brendon choked out. _“All talk. I-I can’t…”_

“God, Brendon, you’re gonna have to fucking explain yourself if you don’t want me to hang the fuck up on you right now,” Ryan said, deadly serious. “I’m not going to subject myself to this much fucking longer, you hear me? You are ruining my day. My fucking day.”

 _“I don’t know how to explain it,”_ he whimpered. _“I, I don’t.”_

“Then goodbye.”

_“No, please!”_

Ryan froze with his finger over the “end call” button before bringing the phone back up to his ear. “What?”

_“I… I can’t explain why I did it. Not in the way that you deserve. It was just one girl, a-and I felt so sorry for her. Not in a pity way. She, she told me she was dying. That she wanted to die. Both. She was talking about killing herself before the sickness does.”_

“What was she sick with?” Ryan asked. He had a feeling.

_“She wouldn’t say. But she was following the band, Ryan, she’s been with us for a while. She helps with equipment and she’s really nice. She gets me drinks, too, and she’s nice to Dallon and Kenny and Zach. She’s just nice, Ryan. A-and one night she told me all about how she’s dying and how sad she is and how she’s never been kissed and how it was her dream to be with me, and then I told Kenny, and he told me to do it. He said that I should. F-for my fans. Set an example of how much I love my fans, and I do, Ryan! I love my fans so much! I-I thought it would be harmless, even when she kept hanging around me and kissing me…”_

“She was playing you,” Ryan said, confident in his assumption. “I’ll bet you fucking money that she wasn’t sick. Suicidal, maybe, because everyone is these days, suicide is an epidemic that no one wants to talk about and everyone goes to as a first response instead of a last resort. It can be used as manipulation these days by horrible people and I’m pretty fucking positive she was using it to manipulate you.”

 _“You don’t know that,”_ Brendon sniffled. 

“I don’t, Brendon, but I’m pretty fucking sure.” Ryan ran a hand through his hair. “A lot of girls who follow guys on tour live for getting laid by the guys. And they’d do anything to get that.”

Brendon sounded like he was crying now. _“D-did I fuck up?”_ Brendon asked in a tiny voice. _“How badly did I fuck up?”_

“Pretty fucking badly,” Ryan told him.

 _“I wanna come home,”_ Brendon sobbed. _“B-but I don’t have a home to return to.”_

Ryan shut his eyes. “… You have hurt me so badly, Brendon. I can’t help you.”

Brendon sniffled again. _“I know. I-I’m sorry. I… I’m gonna stop touring. I c-called off the next one. Once I’m done with this leg, I-I’ll come back to California. I’ll find somewhere to stay. I’m sorry, Ryan. Could you… will you ever forgive me? Someday?”_

Ryan shut his eyes. “… I can’t promise anything.”

Brendon let out his nose of pain. _“I love you.”_

“Do you?” Ryan challenged.

 _“So much,”_ Brendon replied without hesitating. _“I love you more than anything. I’m sorry for what I said while I was drunk. I’m sorry for acting like I didn’t care. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done, Ryan. I’m sorry. And I can never turn back time and fix it. But I wish I could. More than anything.”_

Ryan nodded, an arm wrapped around his chest like he was trying to protect himself. “Yeah, well, I wish you could too. But you have to understand that you cannot and will not treat me or anyone like this ever again. Okay?”

 _“Okay,”_ Brendon whispered. _“I… I’ll let you go.”_

“Goodbye, Brendon,” he said. “And good luck with… whatever it is that you’re about to do.”

Brendon sniffled and said, _“I love you,”_ again before hanging up. Like he didn’t want to give Ryan time to say the same. Or hear Ryan not say anything at all.

Ryan set his phone aside and hung his head in his hands. “… I don’t know if I should forgive him.”

“I don’t think you should,” Gerard said softly, looking like he wanted to give Ryan some sort of respect by lowering his voice. Like he was afraid to startle Ryan by talking too loudly. “I mean, I know he’s your soulmate Ryan, but he’s done so much to you. Too much to be forgiven with a snap of the fingers. He, he needs some sort of punishment for what he’s done. So he knows he can never do it again. Never hurt another human being like this.”

Ryan nodded. “Okay. I won’t forgive him.”

“But not for forever,” Gerard added with a slight wince. “I know it hurts, Ryan, though I can’t imagine the extent of the pain. But if your heart is telling you to forgive him, then you should. B-because…” Gerard seemed to be at a loss of words, and he shook his head. “I don’t know, Ryan. Because you love him. That’s all I can say.”

Ryan looked away and nodded. “… Do we have any alcohol?”

“Alcohol?” Gerard repeated, looking a little distressed. “I… I’d rather not say.”

“What else am I supposed to do but drink?” Ryan asked. His phone buzzed again, but the pattern was different. He’d gotten a text. It was from Josh, which was odd, because Josh hadn’t talked to him since he’d left. The message was a link to some article. Ryan paused, letting the highlight remain on the link, before opening it up. 

The webpage took ages to load, but it eventually did.

Ryan only saw the deadline:

**“PANIC! AT THE DISCO Roadie Claims to be PREGNANT with BRENDON URIE’S BABY.”**

Ryan almost threw his fucking phone again. Destruction was becoming the only way he could feel better about anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> www.wellthisisprettyrisque.tumblr.com


	9. Therapy Can’t Save Everyone (Medicate or Meditate)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a little intervention can be necessary at times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the part where Ryan accidentally falls onto Frank's dick may or may not be based on a true story
> 
> lovely temp beta: **Halseyschemicalromance**

“She says she’s pregnant,” Ryan told Gerard, just sitting in the ex-office and staring at what was left of the colored markers on the ground. He felt so disheartened, angry, and, a little betrayed. The phone call with Brendon had felt like a tentative reach in the right direction of fixing this shit, but now he was having this feeling that Brendon had only called Ryan to see if he’d heard the bombshell yet. Brendon was taking in damage control. What a fucking asshole.

“She could be lying,” Gerard pointed out. “A lot of girls claim pregnancy or rape from a celebrity without any evidence to gain attention from the media. You already said you think she was lying about being terminally ill or something like that. She could have been trying to trick Brendon this whole time.

“Does it matter?” Ryan asked stiffly. “Brendon had to have known about this before he called. He’s out for fucking pity. Or maybe he’s trying to cover his bases. I don’t fucking know, Gerard, but I hate him right now. I feel so much anger and, and rage and disgust. I can’t handle this and I can’t forgive him.”

“You don’t actually hate him, do you?” Gerard asked, looking worried. Ryan scowled, but didn’t respond. He’d said that only a few seconds ago in a heated moment. But Ryan… Ryan found it really hard to hate people.

“I hate something,” he said. “I don’t know what.”

“Hate is just such a definitive emotion,” Gerard told him cautiously. “It’s hard to come back from hating someone and being believed. If you say you hate him now, then who knows how long it’ll be before he can believe you when you say you don’t?”

“Maybe he needs me to say something like that so he understands how fucked what he did was…”

Gerard shook his head. “No one needs to feel hated. Not many people deserve that.”

Ryan snorted and stood. “I’m sorry, but… I really need a drink.”

Gerard’s expression faltered. “Please don’t… Mikey quit for a reason. And I know you hated watching him drink. Plus, you know it’s poison. You know how bad it is for you and how dangerous it can be, and…” Gerard bit his lip. “I mean… with your dad. It, it runs in your family. Alcohol addiction is a dangerous thing for your DNA and I don’t think you should risk getting hooked when you’re already so fucked up by your emotions.”

Ryan did his very best not to be offended. “I’m an adult,” he told Gerard stiffly, not caring about how contradictorily childish he sounded by saying that. “I can make these decisions for myself. And if I want to drink, I should be able to drink.”

Gerard ducked his head. “Just… don’t make the same mistake Mikey did and lose yourself to the drink.”

Ryan wanted to slam his head into the wall. “Thanks, Gee,” he said just to get Gerard to stop talking.

“Are you still gonna help me paint?”

Ryan hesitated. “… Yeah. I can.”

“And put all this stuff away?”

Fuck, Ryan had said he was going to help. “Yeah, I will,” he said, sitting back down and getting back to putting the markers away. Then, he helped Gerard lifted all the marker cases out of the room, and tuck them away into the closet of Gerard’s bedroom. Then, he helped Gerard move the art desk downstairs, move the books, the sketchbooks, the inking pens, the various inks that Gerard said he needed, a billion pieces of paper, erasers, markers, pastels, and finally, paints. Eventually, Ryan ended up looking to the clock and seeing that it was nearly midnight.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Gerard hummed. “Frank will be home soon. I’ll cuddle you enough for two until he’s back.”

Ryan wondered if it had been Gerard’s plan to put him to work until Ryan was too tired to consider drinking. Ryan’s expression flattened, but he couldn’t begrudge Gerard. Gee was just trying to take care of his family. It would be wrong of Ryan to be upset with him for that. Ryan sighed and trudged back upstairs to the bedroom and stripped off his shirt, dropping into Gerard’s bed with little care. He felt the bed shift and then Gerard was beside him. He felt fingertips over his bare back.

“You’ve lost a lot of weight, Ryan,” Gerard said, sounding cautious again. “You should eat more.”

“I don’t eat when I’m upset,” Ryan told the pillow his face was smashed into.

“We need to fix that,” Gerard told him. “I can help. I’ll make you eat. Put the spoon down your throat and everything. Maybe a bit of sugar added to things. I can try a lot of different recipes and stuff. We just gotta find something that you like to eat. Something you’d look forward to eating so you’ll just, like… eat more.”

Ryan smiled fondly a little and shook his head. Then he turned his head to the side so he wasn’t smashed into the pillow any longer. It had been a little harder to breathe in there. “I’ll eat tomorrow. I promise.”

Gerard looked a little distressed. “But—”

“I mean it,” Ryan repeated sincerely. “I will. I swear.”

Gerard ducked his head, then finally lied down beside Ryan. “Just worry about you.”

“I know you do,” Ryan said. “And I appreciate it. Really. I have so many awesome friends who care about me so fucking much, and it’s honestly amazing. I never expected to have people as amazing as you guys in my life. I feel so fucking lucky to know you all and be able to live so close to you. To see you guys every day. It’s— and I’m about to get cheesy— a blessing. I have so many people that care about me and it’s more than I could have ever asked for.”

Gerard grinned and tugged at a strand of Ryan’s curly hair. “We’ll fix all of this, Ryan. Just gotta trust us to be with you every step of the way.”

. . .

“And you haven’t dreamed since?” Travis asked Ryan after Ryan’s classes were done. They were meeting up for dinner, and Ryan honestly wasn’t very happy about being in public. Hanging around his family was one thing, but being in an Olive Garden was another. Ryan shook his head, sipping his peach Bellini and enjoying the hint of champagne. He couldn’t really drink at home; couldn’t drink in public, either, but this was better than nothing. 

“I’m beginning to think the mental connection for the dreams is more emotional than anything,” Ryan said.

“But then why didn’t the dreams stop back when you were honestly afraid of him hurting you?” Travis asked, looking contemplative. “You’ve had plenty of horribly strong and negative emotions towards Brendon over the years, and it’s never severed the connection. Why now?’

Ryan shrugged, stirring his drink. “Maybe it’s the idea that he doesn’t need me anymore?”

Travis rolled his eyes.

Jon came back, sliding into his seat that was beside Ryan’s. “God, our food isn’t here yet? What a travesty. I’m wasting away here, Trav, you’ve got to do something about it with your amazing influence in the scientific community.”

“I have no such influence,” Travis deadpanned as he ate a breadstick. He noticed Ryan was staring at him with a blank expression, so he winked and tried to deep throat the breadstick. Ryan watched as Travis’s eyes bugged out and laughed as Travis gagged comically, his loud retching drawing the attention of people at the tables surrounding them. Ryan smirked and kicked Travis’s leg under the table, wanting to see if he could make it worse. His kick made Travis lurch forward and take the breadstick even deeper, and Jon was laughing so hard that Ryan was suspicious Jon wasn’t breathing anymore.

“Fucking hate you both,” Travis rasped, voice sounding used. 

Ryan giggled. “You sound like I did after I sucked Josh’s dick for the first time,” he told Travis.

“What, not Brendon?” Jon asked.

Ryan tightened his jaw and refused to say anything at all. In honesty, Ryan knew that Brendon’s “size” was below average was easily mocked, but he refused to stoop so low and insult Brendon when Brendon couldn’t be there to defend himself. So Ryan just shrugged.

“And I didn’t know you sucked Josh’s dick,” Jon added, taking the hint to change the subject. 

“Dude, they fucked for literal years,” Travis said. “It was, like, a friends with benefits thing, I think. Mutual orgasms. Ryan was horny and Josh was horny and neither were taken and they were both consenting adults, so they thought “why the fuck not?” and did the nasty.”

“It was such good sex,” Ryan said with a sigh.

Jon hummed. “Top or bottom or switch?”

“Bottom,” Ryan snorted. “Always. Josh would rather be caught dead than have something up his ass. He has a weird phobia, I think. Which is so fucking dumb. But whatever. He knew how to use what was in his pants.”

“I literally cannot beg enough you to stop talking about gay sex,” Travis said.

“We shall do no such thing,” Jon said. “You can’t censor us. You can’t put duct tape over the mouth of love. We will not be silenced.”

“You hung out with Frank too long this past Sunday,” Ryan sighed. “You’re doing that weird thing where you keep adding speeches to everything, going on and on about your manhood or whatever. He’s done that for years. One time he inspired Mikey enough to start singing this Mountain Goats song while we were driving down the freeway. Gerard got so fucking excited that he nearly crashed the car into the side of the road.”

“Inspiring speeches can be dangerous,” Travis laughed.

“They can make people believe in the impossible and get themselves killed,” Ryan agreed.

Jon shrugged. “Seems to work in all those Hollywood sports movies.”

“But back to the dreaming,” Travis said, obviously done with that tangent. “You said that you haven’t dreamed and that you think it’s connected to emotion. But, if you’ve had all these previously strong emotions that were extremely negative, why haven’t the dreams been ended before?”

“Because Brendon needed me,” Ryan replied with a shrug. “Or something like that. Back then, even though I was mostly terrified of him, I knew, in my subconscious, that I needed him. And Brendon knew the same thing. He knew that he needed me for whatever reason and wanted to be kept safe. But now, with the negative emotions added to the fact that Brendon doesn’t fucking need me at all, the dreams are over. I can’t actually explain in fact, I can only say my theories on why.”

Travis sighed and nodded. “Well, what do you wanna do? I would love to continue to scan your head. See if something has changed now that the dreams are no longer active. It could give me some really amazing insight into your brain and maybe even answer some questions.”

“I hardly even understand what you’ve already found,” Ryan admitted dryly.

“We’ve found these amazing little lights coming up in your head around the areas responsible for motor function,” Travis said, smiling a bit. “You’re brain is showing just as much activity in that section as you would see in someone running a marathon.”

“What does that mean?” Jon asked.

“It means that Ryan’s brain is just as active as being awake while being asleep,” Travis explained. “As active as someone exerting themselves. When you’re asleep, half of your brain falls asleep with you. One of the hemispheres shuts down. But Ryan’s doesn’t.”

“Fuck,” Ryan said. “No wonder I’m so fucking exhausted.”

“Except you’re not,” Travis replied. “Not like you should be. You are somehow getting that sleep while technically being fully conscious, brain activity wise. I just wish I could scan Brendon’s head and figure out if he’s in the same boat, or if it’s only you.”

“I would fucking give anything to just have a normal soulmate,” Ryan admitted with a heavy sigh. “One who didn’t cheat on me. Wasn’t abused. Grew up in suburbia and was fucked up by the public school system in the most common way. One that can’t nearly kill me in a fucking dream. What the fuck, guys? Why me?”

Jon smirked. “You’re too cute, Ryan— why not you?”

Ryan scowled. The food arrived before Ryan could say anything he’d regret and Travis busied himself with eating because Travis wasn’t good at talking and eating at the same time.

. . .

Ryan came home and was surprised when he saw Mikey. “Hey,” he greeted cautiously. “You haven’t been home in, like, two days. What gives?” Mikey and Ray hadn’t been home since the day before, when the two men had gone to the doctor for information on the surgery. Ryan had been pretty fucking worried, but Gerard had insisted that everything was okay. Gerard hadn’t had any clue where they were either, but Gerard had still insisted.

Mikey smiled, looking tired. “Hey, Ry,” he replied before raising his arms above the head and stretching. Ryan sat on the couch next to him and raised a brow, expecting some sort of explanation. 

Mikey hummed and stretched again and then settled against Ryan’s side. “Ray and I got a hotel and had sex,” he explained.

Ryan blanched. “Please tell me you used a condom,” he said. “You know how fucking dangerous any boldly fluid can be from Ray. What do you think that radiation does to his body, Mikey? God, please tell me you weren’t so stupid to not use a condom…”

“Jesus, mom, we used protection, god damn.” Mikey giggled. “We were so careful, we didn’t even french kiss.”

“How did he even have the energy?”

“He didn’t do much,” Mikey said. Then he smirked slowly. “But I rode him like a fucking cowboy.”

Ryan groaned and let his head fall back against the couch. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You need a break,” Mikey said. Then he reached down to his feet and pulled out a bottle of fireball whiskey.

Ryan’s eyes went wide in alarm. “Mikey, you—”

“Not gonna be an alcoholic again,” Mikey said. “But I’ve learned that, through detoxing, you need a cheat night. I think. And Gee says you’ve been asking around for alcohol. Sooner or later, I know you’re gonna go for it on your own, so I’d rather you be supervised. You and I are gonna have one night to get drunk and then we’ll leave it at that. No repeat offenses. You got it? For the family. Okay, Ryan?”

Ryan grimaced. “Can’t I drink on my own like an adult?”

“Can you promise not to hurt yourself?”

Ryan hesitated.

“Then no, you can’t drink alone,” Mikey said simply. “Sorry, Ry. It’s love, not war.”

Ryan sighed and nodded. “Hand me the fireball.”

. . .

“Oh my god, Ryan!” Mikey giggled as they chopped onions, tears spilling down both their cheeks from the fumes. They’d cut about eight onions already, so they were suffering. “When, when, when I had glasses? Never had this problem. Never.” Mikey made a cutting gesture in the air with the knife. “Hella have it now. What’s hella? Hell-ah?”

“Mikey,” Ryan said in dead seriousness. He grabbed a raw ring of onion and slid it over his nimble wrist. “When my boyfriend bought me this bracelet, I cried.” He held out the onion-bracelet to get his pun across.

Mikey laughed in large, honking breaths. “Oh geez! Oh geez! Can’t breathe!” He started slapping the table, practically writhing. Mikey brought a hand to his chest and resembled something like a velociraptor. Ryan giggled as he watched Mikey lose his mind over Ryan’s totally awesome joke. Ryan was proud of that joke. 

The whiskey was warm in his belly, along with the last of the vodka that they had found hidden behind the soup bottoms in one of the bottom pantries. They’d decided to try and make onion rings, substituting the fryer with a pot, (how they’d found the vodka) full of oil, and, a bunch of loaves of bread that they’d crumbled up. It was genius. Ryan and Mikey were geniuses. Ryan knew this to be a fact, because no one but a genius could come up with this awesome deep fried onion plan.

God, Ryan was so hungry.

“God, Ryan is so hungry,” Ryan said, watching Mikey go back to chopping onions. Mikey hummed and nodded.

“Ryan’s hungry too,” Mikey said. “Wait, no, no… Mikey’s hungry. I’m hungry.” Mikey giggled. “I’m so hungry.”

“These are gonna be the best deep fried onions ever.” Ryan said. He then looked up as he heard footsteps trudge down the stairs. Gerard came into view, wearing nothing but this weird neon orange underwear with bruises and bite marks all over his chest and neck and thighs. When Gerard saw them, he looked very disappointed.

“I don’t know who let who drink,” Gerard said sadly. “But I wish they hadn’t.” 

Ryan quickly shook his head. “No, Gee, no, I gotta explain,” he said quickly. “This? This is my one night. One night of drink. A-and Mikey didn’t want me to do it alone, cause he’s scared I’m gonna slit my wrists.” Gerard looked startled with how easily those words had slipped from Ryan’s mouth. “This is the only night I get,” Ryan said. “The only one. I promise. Okay? I promise.”

Gerard bit his lip. Ryan noticed Gerard’s lips were already swollen and spit slicked. Ryan giggled. “Frankie fucked you good, huh?”

When Gerard blushed, Mikey gasped. “You go, bro!” Mikey exclaimed. “Ray fucked me good, too! With a condom, I totally promise. Gee, Ray is so good. I love Ray so much. He feels so good. I’ve missed his dick. His dick is a good dick and I’m so happy to have it back.”

Gerard cracked a smile and reached out to ruffle Mikey’s hair. “I mean… I’ll stay up with you guys. Just to make sure this is all okay. I-if this is the only time you’re gonna do this. This is the only time you’re gonna drink, right, Ryan? Mikey? This one night? Please?”

“Only for tonight,” Mikey promised, dead serious as he approached his brother. He took Gerard’s face in both his hands and stared dead on into his eyes, gaze intense and soul deep. Ryan watched with wide eyes as Mikey just kinda stood there. Maybe Mikey had fallen asleep?

”“Are you gonna kiss? Ryan asked in curiosity.

Mikey snorted and ended up accidentally spitting in Gerard’s face while he giggled. Gerard sputtered and flailed around, trying to get out of Mikey’s hands. Mikey kept giggling and holding onto Gerard’s face, watching Gerard struggle and finding it hilarious. Ryan came to the rescue and pried Gerard’s face from Mikey hands, making soothing little noises as he did so. He gently pulled Mikey away from Gerard and sat Mikey down at the table. “No touchey,” he told Mikey after patting him on the head and fucking up Mikey’s hair. 

“Maybe you two should go to bed now,” Gerard suggested. Ryan looked back and was happy to see that Gerard was still smiling despite the stickiness that had to be clinging to Gerard’s face after being touched by Mikey’s unclean hands. “I mean, all of the alcohol is gone. You’re just trying to cook now, aren’t you?”

“We’re chef geniuses,” Ryan said firmly. “Making onion rings. With bread crumbs and tons of oil.”

Gerard looked skeptical. He cast his eyes in the direction of the pot all of boiling oil and his eyes went wide in alarm. “Yeah, we’re done cooking,” he said, pushing past Ryan to turn off the stove and put a pan top over the pot. “Fuck, you guys are so stupid when you’re drunk.”

“Better than sad,” Mikey chimed in.

Ryan shut his eyes for a moment so he could remember how to breathe. Ryan didn’t want to feel sad. Or mad. He didn’t want to feel an emotion that ended in A and D. He wanted to eat onion rings and find somebody to love. He wanted to be in love again, and it was heartbreaking to know that he wouldn’t fall in love for a very long time. He needed time to heal. He needed time to get the fuck over this shit. Or maybe get through it?

“What if I get back together with Brendon?” Ryan asked Mikey and Gerard. “Would you guys hate him?”

“No.”

“Absolutely.”

Ryan’s head whipped back and forth between Gerard and Mikey. He wasn’t even sure who had said what. His neck was starting to hurt. “W-what?”

“I will hate that asshole forever,” Mikey spat.

“I know that you’d want me to forgive him,” Gerard said.

“I am so torn,” Ryan stated. “I have no idea who is saying what. What’s happening? Am I alive?” He started to giggle. Ryan was happy he wasn’t going downhill into his own personal drunken hell of mopey sadness. Ryan didn’t want to be a downer to anyone. He hated that. “I just don’t know what to do,” Ryan ended up sighing. “I mean, I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive him. I don’t want to forgive him right now. But if I ever do, I’d like to know that none of you guys will fight with me over it. I just don’t want to create a rift in our family. I, I don’t want to cause everyone any sort of trouble. Not again. Not like I used to.”

“We’ll support you,” Gerard said before Mikey could say anything else. “And I’ll say this for when you’re sober, too. We’ll always support you, Ryan, I swear. We love you.” Gerard reached out and took Ryan by the upper arm. “Why don’t we get you two to bed, yeah? I’m sure Ray’s cold on his own. And Ryan, you’ve got classes in a couple hours. It’s two in the morning. You’re already going to hate yourself so much.”

Ryan giggled and nodded. “Totally. All the hate. Self hatred. Good show.”

Gerard just nodded and led Ryan and Mikey upstairs. Ryan was in awe over how Gerard could possibly handle two very drunk men at once. Ryan was very impressed. He was going to order Gerard a bunch of chocolate online once he was sober. And maybe some of that cool Mexican Coca Cola and you couldn’t get anywhere else. Or Cheerwine. Yes. Ryan would buy him Cheerwine.

“I’m gonna buy you Cheerwine,” Ryan told Gerard as Gerard put Mikey to bed. Mikey instantly curled into Ray, throwing one of Ray’s arms over his body to serve as a sort of blanket. “I’m gonna buy you a huge case of Cheerwine and you’ll drink it everyday.”

Gerard chuckled. “I haven’t had Cheerwine in years. That sounds awesome, actually. I would appreciate it.” 

Ryan looked around Gerard’s room once they were inside and grabbed the first marker he could find. He quickly scribbled “buy Cheerwine for G” on his wrist, and smiled to himself, proud of his problem solving skills. Gerard ushered him to the bed and Ryan fell face first into Frank’s crotch. “Oh geez,” Ryan said. He felt an amazingly stark outline of the edge and head of Frank’s cock against his cheek. He struggled to get up, and once he had, all Ryan could do was think about the imprint of sensation of Frank’s dick that was now burned onto his cheek. He stared at the dresser with wide, horrified eyes. “I am so sorry.”

“Fuck, you aren’t Gee,” Frank groaned, half asleep. “Fucking fuck, Ryan, get your face out of my junk.”

“That’s mine,” Gerard giggled, lying down and grabbing Frank’s dick through Frank’s pajamas. “Though I’m sure Ryan had his reasons.” Gerard lied down on his side and pulled Ryan down to lie with him. “Let’s just get some sleep.”

Ryan squeezed his eyes shut and tried to do just that.

Work was going to suck

. . .

Ryan wasn’t wrong about work sucking. Kellin had shown up, chipper as fuck and delighted as the sun, raving about the dinner that was supposed to be happening tonight. Ryan just wished he was a turtle so he could hide in his shell and never, ever return to the real world. His head hurt and he’d woken up late, so he’d been unable to eat a greasy breakfast to get rid of the hangover. He hadn’t even had time for coffee.

“Vic isn’t a vegetarian most nights,” Kellin told Ryan as he handed Ryan the papers he’d collected from everyone. “And he’s not in school, so you don’t have to worry about him being stressed over finals next week, though I am definitely stressed.” Kellin laughed a little. “I’m so fucking stressed out. I’m totally gonna die.”

“Avoid talk of death,” Ryan mumbled. “It brings down your mood and gives you a self fulfilling prophecy about how you think you’re gonna fail. And then you’re really fucked.”

Kellin smirked and dropped the stack of papers loud enough to create a jarring thump.

Ryan scowled up at Kellin, grumpy as ever. “You want my help, don’t you? Don’t be an ass.”

“You’re the one who decided to get drunk last night,” Kellin retorted, all sass as he walked away from the desk, letting his hips way. Ryan was pretty sure Kellin was the type of guy to walk in heels better than your average supermodel. Ryan sighed and looked to the papers. They were final edits of old assignments. Ryan had given his students the chance to redo an assignment that had a lower-than-desired grade and turn it in for a bump up on their grade. Ryan was a pretty demanding teacher, but he wasn’t unfair.

Ryan sighed and went through the papers and decided that anyone willing to put the effort in deserved an A on the assignment. He wasn’t going to bother with grading. He had dinner to make once he finally got home and he had to try and get ahold of Josh, whom he hadn’t heard from in days. Ryan was pretty sure Josh was avoiding him. Ryan couldn’t imagine anything worse.

He muddled through his classes, gratefully accepting the hoagie Jon had gotten him for lunch. Ryan made it through his last class and he planned to get home, cook, then get Kellin over, but as he walked to his car, his phone went off. Ryan frowned and pulled it from his pocket. The number wasn’t recognized by the cheap flip phone, so Ryan had no idea who it was.

“Hello?” he answered cautiously. He couldn’t handle talking to Brendon right now.

 _“Ryan!”_ Tyler exclaimed through the speaker. _“Hey, dude! Long time, no speak.”_

Ryan blinked owlishly, then lowered himself into his car. “Hey, Tyler… Can I help you?” He can’t imagine why Tyler would be calling him.

 _“So, I’ve been talking to Josh,”_ and Ryan let his head fall back to hit the support of the seat underneath him. Of fucking course. _“And he’s been talking about how Brendon’s been treating you and how he’s with Halsey and how, maybe, he thinks you’re jealous of him?”_

Ryan’s nose scrunched up. 

_“He just told me about how you were bringing up you and him being together. Said he was worried you wanted more from him.”_ Ryan heard rustling on the line. _“He thinks you’re trying to come onto him.”_ More rustling, then a distant voice that sounded muffled, like it was over a loudspeaker. _“I honestly think that’s bullshit, Ryan.”_ Ryan relaxed. _“Which is why I’m about to board a flight to LA. Think you can pick me up around two AM? Sorry that it’s so sudden. I don’t want Josh to pick me up cause I have a feeling he’s gonna expect me to chew you out.”_

Ryan did some mental math. It was currently six PM. He would get home around six-thirty, finish making dinner by seven, have Kellin and Vic over and out by eleven, at the latest. Ryan could then take a short nap, pick Tyler up, then go back to bed. “I’m sleeping in Gee and Frank’s bed,” he told Tyler. “I burnt my mattress. You can sleep in Josh’s room, until he gets back.”

 _“He is back,”_ Tyler told Ryan. _“He has been for about two days.”_

Ryan’s heart sunk. That meant that Josh really had been avoiding him. 

_“He’s been sneaking around like an asshole, hasn’t he?”_ Tyler continued. _“I wanna take care of this shit before anything really stupid happens. Sound good?”_

Ryan nodded, mostly to himself. “I’ll pick you up at two.”

Tyler let out this hum. _“Thanks, Ryan. I’ve gotta go. Seeya soon.”_

Ryan hung up after Tyler and ran a hand through his hair before starting the car. It was going to be a long night.

. . .

When Ryan met Vic, he was surprised, and he wasn’t sure why. Vic looked everything like he would assume a kid growing up in California would look like. Darker skin, both from ethnicity and sun, moody eyes that looked like they could shoot lazer beams made of angst, and that long hair that most scene kids had these days. Ryan was just used to this look being on the face of a high schooler, not a twenty-five year old. He was a weird mirrored-opposite of Kellin. They both had the deep expressions and long hair, but Kellin was pale with bright eyes and Vic just - wasn’t. 

The handshake Vic gave him was solid, though, and that told Ryan a lot. Vic was definitely stubborn and ready to put up a fight. He probably had a hunch as to why Kellin had wanted this dinner and was ready to drag his feet, every step of the way. Ryan smirked to himself. He was always up for a challenge these days. He liked a little bit of ego in a fight because it usually meant he was less likely to break something in a fit of anger.

“Victor Fuentes,” Vic said, meeting Ryan’s eyes. That was pretty uncommon for people suffering from depression, because usually depression was comorbid with anxiety. Then again, Kellin had never mentioned Vic being afflicted with anxiety as well. That was rare. “It’s nice to meet you. Kellin talks about you a lot. And I apologize in advance. He calls me a bit of a curmudgeon.”

Ryan nodded. “All good, I hope,” he said. 

Vic just shrugged. His expression was hard, mouth set in a line. “I know why I’m here.”

“Do you,” Ryan said more than asked. He honestly didn’t care of Vic was gonna fight him on this. He knew what he needed to do. He knew what Kellin wanted him to do, and he was going to fucking do it. 

“You’re gonna try and make me drug myself,” Vic said. “Like Kellin wants. I’m not taking your fucking quaaludes.”

“That’s a pretty big word,” Ryan said, deciding to comment on the chosen vocabulary rather than his concerns. Ryan didn’t want to make him absolutely and one hundred percent against the idea by playing with his expectations. If Vic got too defensive, then Ryan would only make things worse. He didn’t want to backtrack the work Kellin had done, if anything at all.

“Let’s get some food in you guys,” Ryan said, reaching out and hugging Kellin because Kellin actually initiated a hug. That was odd. Kellin wasn’t usually a touchy person. Maybe he wanted Vic to believe he and Ryan were close through demonstration? Ryan could believe that. Or maybe Kellin was experiencing some anxiety and couldn’t go to Vic for comfort because he didn’t want Vic to get the idea that he was uncomfortable.

“I would love some food,” Kellin said. Ryan led them to the table, where he’d set out dinner. It was steak and salad and fruit and Ryan had gotten Gerard to help him squeeze fresh lemonade while he’d been at work. Ryan was serving dinner at the secondary house of the property, where his old bedroom had been, so he was kinda hoping that Josh would muddle by and be surprised by Ryan’s presence. Ryan really wanted to force some confrontation with Josh. He fucking hated being avoided. He’d been overjoyed about graduating high school for a fucking reason. The silent treatment was just a nuisance. 

“This looks really good,” Kellin commented. “Right, Vic?” Kellin looked to Vic like he was eager to get some sort of input from him. Vic just sat down beside the chair Kellin was standing in front of and waited. Ryan gave him points for getting straight to it. Ryan sat down, and Kellin did too, eventually.

They ate dinner and talked about random things. Kellin looked increasingly disheartened the more they spoke. He’d probably been expecting Ryan to just sit Vic down and teach him a lesson like he would with his students, but Ryan knew that sort of thing didn’t work in situations like this. Vic wasn’t his student and this wasn’t the university. Vic was a kid with depression who was either scared or too defensive to get help. You couldn’t pull out a powerpoint and expect the words you were saying to get through people like that. You had to let them know that you knew they were human and wanted what was best for them as a person, not as a paying customer. That was a huge reason behind why some people didn’t listen to therapists. They wanted to be more than a paycheck. 

They talked about sports (what little Ryan knew— Vic was actually really into soccer and baseball, which was kinda cool to know). Ryan knew a shit ton about hockey, so they mostly compared rules and regulations between sports while trading information on the status of the teams for the favorites states. Ryan told Vic about the San Diego hockey team, the Gulls, and Vic told Ryan all about the Cubs and the Bears. 

Ryan also learned about Vic’s aspirations and the little things that happened in his past. Ryan started to learn that Vic was a sufferer of biological depression, and not situational. Those weren’t legitimate terms, they just told Ryan that Vic hadn’t developed depression over a events, but was born with it in his brain. Of course, the suicide of Vic’s girlfriend back in high school before knowing Kellin had definitely been a trigger.

It was odd, really. Vic told Ryan the story. He’d been dating this girl in high school who didn’t have a soulmate, or at least, hadn’t had a dream yet, when Vic had had his own dream with Kellin. The girl had found out and killed herself because she had been so sure she would never find anyone as good for her as Vic. It was… sobering. And wrong. Ryan hated the finality high schoolers lived by. Minor events were the end of everything, and they had a hard time seeing the big picture, beyond high school. He wished he could grab these kids by their shoulders and show them there was much more beyond four years of mandatory education. There was more to life than graduating.

As they spoke, Vic became more and more relaxed with Ryan, and seemed even more interested in hearing what Ryan had to say about various things. Ryan had informed Vic of his thoughts on the fatal dramatics of high schoolers, and Vic had seemed to really appreciate it. Ryan had shown Vic he was an intelligent person who knew what he was talking about. And that was perfect.

“I overestimated your perfidy,” Vic told him as he and Kellin started to leave. Kellin looked pissed, but Ryan wasn’t done. “I’d thought you were going to give me a lecture.”

Ryan shook his head. “Not my style. But Vic?”

Vic looked back to Ryan for the last time that night. 

“I know you don’t want to take medication,” Ryan began, keeping his voice low enough for Kellin to be unable to hear. “And I know you have trust issues and very good reasons. But the way you act now is hurting Kellin and making him feel out of control and upset. So if you want to help Kellin, you’ll at least try medication out.”

Vic opened his mouth to say something, but Ryan interrupted him. 

“Medication isn’t permanent no matter what,” he told Vic. “You take medication to stave off symptoms while you develop coping techniques that you can utilize once you’re off the meds. Psychiatrists are always working towards getting you off the meds and making sure you can prosper without them. Meds aren’t permanent. But without getting some sort of help, you depression will be. And Kellin will continue to sacrifice himself for you.”

Vic didn’t say anything for a moment. “Goodnight, Ryan,” Vic finally said, his expression unreadable.

Ryan nodded. “Goodnight.”

He shut the door behind the two boys and felt confident he’d gotten through to Vic, if not just a smidgen.

. . .

“Fuck, flying was awful,” Tyler laughed as he dropped into the passenger’s seat and grinned brightly at Ryan. “Josh still doesn’t know I’m here, right?”

Ryan shook his head. “None the wiser. He didn’t ever come down for that dinner I had with a student, but he’s been pretty sneaky anyways, so…” Ryan sighed and pulled out of the arrivals zone, making his way through the traffic. LA was, at least, quieter at two AM. “Was the camping trip even real?” Ryan asked after a moment.

Tyler turned to Ryan with a frown. “What camping trip?”

Fuck.

“Fuck,” Ryan said. 

“Did he say something about a camping trip?” Tyler asked. 

“It’s nothing,” Ryan said instead of throwing Josh under the bus. If Tyler didn't know anything about it, then Ryan wouldn’t say anything at all. He wouldn't play this fucking game ever again. “You wanna grab something to eat? Denny’s is always open. I would love to just sit and catch up with you.”

Tyler smiled softly. “You have classes, Ryan. You definitely need to get some rest, yeah? You deserve some sleep. Some actual sleep.”

“I have, like, four hours to class.” Ryan looked to the clock on the console and saw it was actually three. “Nevermind. Make that three hours. There is legitimately no point in me going to bed at this point. It’d be a waste of my time. I’m not gonna waste that time on something as stupid as sleeping. My students have handled an exhausted me multiples times, they’ll be fine.”

Tyler laughed. “You’re such a professor.”

Ryan smirked and drove to the Denny’s.

. . .

“What’re you gonna do?” Ryan asked as he devoured his french toast. Something about eating at 3 in the morning made him hungry no matter how long ago he’d eaten. “About Josh, I mean. I know you’ve said you’re more on my side, but I’m still a little iffy on how that’s gonna come through. No offense, just… he’s more your friend than you’re mine. I’m finding it hard to believe there will be any loyalty to anything beyond how many years that are in the handbook.”

“God, you must be fucking exhausted, because you’re not making a lick of sense with your euphemisms,” Tyler chuckled. “I’ve been friends with Josh longer, absolutely. Which is why I have no issue with sitting him down and telling him what an ass he is.”

Ryan grimaced. “You don’t have to be so mean, though, right?”

Tyler shrugged. “Depends on how far up his butt he is with his delusions.”

“I just don’t want you coming in here and talking to him making things worse between him and me,” Ryan confessed. “I really fucking need him in my life. I know I was the one to bring up us being together and how maybe it should’ve stayed that way, but I never thought he’d think it meant I was coming onto him. I wouldn’t fucking do that, even if he wasn’t with Halsey. I know that he and I ended what we had for a reason. We were fucking great together, but there was someone better out there for both of us.”

Tyler nodded slowly as he listened. He was drinking orange juice out of a green straw and looked years younger.

Ryan sighed and dropped his fork to his plate so he could run his hands over his face. He grimaced when his face felt sticky immediately afterwards, and cursed himself for not checking his fingertips for syrup. “I’m a fucking disaster right now, Tyler. I’m either angry or hopeless. I’m never in between. It’s only been, like, a week since I found out, but it hasn’t gotten any closer to feeling better. The girl says she’s fucking pregnant, for the love of god. There’s no way out of this. No way for me to end up anywhere close to the top of whatever pile of garbage my fucking life is.”

“That’s a colorful depiction,” Tyler commented.

“What do I do?” Ryan implored. “I don’t… I don’t fucking know. Gerard is telling me to forgive Brendon, but not yet. I don’t want to be within ten feet of him, but…” He bit his lip. “Well. D-don’t tell anyone I told you this, but sometimes I reach out for him in my head, and I… I can feel him, Tyler. I can feel his mind next to mine. Or his soul. Whatever. And it fucking hurts. The dreams are over, but he’s not. He’s still here.” Ryan shut his eyes to stop tears from falling. “He’s still fucking here.”

“You love him,” Tyler said softly. “Despite everything he’s done. Do you know what that means?”

Ryan shook his head.

Tyler leaned forward, expression growing fierce. “It means, no matter fucking what, you’ve got to do your best to do the right thing for yourself. Keep Brendon in your life if that’s what it takes, but if he isn’t making an effort? If he isn’t begging for your forgiveness? If you even get the hint of the idea that he doesn’t actually care if you’re worth him or not? Drop him. For good. And find someone that will always love you, despite every fault and flaw. Got it?”

Ryan took in a shaky breath and then nodded after a moment. “You don’t think my friends will abandon me if I forgive Brendon, do you?”

“I think you’re planning too far ahead.” Tyler shook his head. “Because in my opinion? I wouldn’t even consider talking to Brendon.

Ryan looked back to his unappetizing food and dreaded class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: **www.wellthisisprettyrisque.tumblr.com**
> 
> question friends:  
> i've gotten a new full time job and while i'm not planning on it, there may be weeks where i'll be working a lot more than there are expendable hours in the day, so I would like to take a poll of sorts (this is only in an emergency response thing i'm gonna do)
> 
>  
> 
> **would you rather**  
>  a) have me post once every two weeks  
> or b) have shorter chapters (will not be shorter than 5000 words (current length is 7000))


	10. When the Levee Breaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "a kiss with a fist is better than none"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> summary are lyrics of Florence + the Machine
> 
> guest beta: **halseyschemicalromance**
> 
> and uh yeah
> 
> this is gonna be a doozy

Ryan went through his classes that day with a growing dread that was only worsened by the lack of sleep. It was Friday and finals were the very next week. Ryan could tell all of his students were feeling the pressure, except for Kellin. Kellin actually looked pretty ecstatic.

“After we got home,” Kellin told Ryan during lunch. “Vic and I went to bed, right? And he was really quiet the whole ride home, so I was worried you’d pissed him off, but then he woke me up this morning and asked me how to make an appointment with a psychiatrist, Ryan! A fucking psychiatrist! I gave him a blow job on the spot, against the dresser. It was hot.”

“T-M-fuckin’-I, kid,” Ryan said.

“You’d think that with all of your education, you’d be less squeamish about a completely healthy sexual relationship,” Kellin shot back. “Don’t be an ass, Ryan. I have feelings too. Sexual feelings. I’m a sexual creature. We can’t try and stifle sexual desire and then yell at people for not being sexual enough a moment later. The hypocrisy is astounding and I will not stand for it coming from you. You should be accepting of, and even encourage, my mental and emotional growth through my sexual relationship with my boyfriend, and not discourage my willingness to share and process things aloud.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes at Kellin when he realized the kid wasn’t being sarcastic. “You little shit,” he said. “Don’t make me think about things beyond how to fucking walk and breathe. I haven’t slept in nearly forty eight hours.”

“You’re such an old man,” Kellin snorted. 

“Respect your elders, then,” Ryan shot back.

Kellin laughed and kicked Ryan’s chair leg.

Jon came back from the bathroom, still mopping at the wet spot on his pants with a bunch of paper towels. He’d spilt his unsweetened tea all over his pants just moments ago with a couple curses, and Kellin and Ryan’s laughter. Ryan had thought it was a great distraction.

“But back to Vic,” Ryan said. “He’s going to a psychiatrist, right? And it’s legit. He’s gonna try something.”

“I hope,” Kellin said. “What did you say to him?”

Ryan shook his head. “Just that he owed it to you to try. You try for him, so he should do the same. It’s fair and part of a healthy relationship. Even if the pills don’t help, he tried, you know? That’s really what matters. That’s what will help you feel a little better about everything, right?”

Kellin shrugged, though he was smiling. “He’s gonna try. That’s awesome.”

Ryan just finished his soup and focused on getting through the rest of the day. He wished he could get coffee, but Jon wouldn’t let him. Ryan wondered when he’d stopped being allowed to make his own adult decisions.

. . .

He went home to Gerard telling him to go to the secondary house because Tyler was waiting for him. Ryan knew that probably meant Josh was waiting for him, too, and he was not excited. Ryan wasn’t exactly against confrontation, but he preferred to avoid it when the confrontation happened amongst friends. That probably was bullshit, since Ryan was definitely the type to bring on all types of confrontation without really inviting or encouraging it. He brought confrontation to light like a whistleblower and he kinda hated it, but just a little. At least shit got done.

Ryan sighed as he crossed the back lawn and enjoyed the cool weather before steeling himself for the conversation that was about to take place. He walked into the house and nodded to himself when he saw Tyler and Josh sitting at the table, watching him expectantly. Well, Tyler looked expectant. Josh just looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole. Ryan wondered if Josh even felt bad for avoiding him.

“So Josh hasn’t told me that much,” Tyler said. “I figured it’d be easier to get stuff out of him like this. Face to face. Where neither of you can hide.”

“I’m not hiding shit,” Ryan said, sitting down and crossing his arms over his chest, staring Josh down. “In fact, I haven’t been doing anything even worthy of being titled sneaky. I’ve been an open fucking book.”

Tyler hid a grin behind his hand while Josh just looked uncomfortable.

“So what’s up, Josh?” Ryan asked, not caring if he sounded a little belligerent. “I could’ve sworn you were an actual adult. But going around and hiding from your problems? That’s something a thirteen year old does.”

“Shut up,” Josh grumbled.

“No, you,” Ryan replied lamely. He ain’t going for clever, he was going for effective. “Stop fucking avoiding me, you asshole. I didn’t do a thing to make you act like this towards me. I don’t fucking deserve the way you’re treating me. We’re supposed to be friends, Josh, what the fuck happened to that?”

“I don’t wanna be around some guy that always fucking comes onto me,” Josh grumbled, expression oddly closed off.

Ryan, on the other hand, couldn’t hide what he was feeling if he wanted to. He gaped. “Are you fucking serious?” He demanded sharply. “You’re gonna be a fucking homophobe on top of all this bullshit?”

“You know I’m not that,” Josh huffed. “I just don’t like being hit on! I have a girlfriend, Ryan, you know that. I’m not comfortable around you.”

That hurt a little. And felt a lot like a lie. “Bullshit,” Ryan sneered. “You fucked me up the ass too many times, said you loved me too many times to have that be what’s really going on. You’re right, you’re not some bigot, but you’re sure as hell not avoiding me just because you’re feeling insecure in your relationship with Halsey. There’s something more going on here.”

“God, do you have to be right about everything?” Josh asked with a roll of his eyes. “Maybe I am just uncomfortable with you coming onto me! Maybe I’m just done with what we were! You and I are in the past, and just because you’re having trouble with your shitty boyfriend doesn’t mean you can try and ruin my relationship!”

“I’m not trying to ruin shit,” Ryan snapped. “I’m not doing anything at all! If anything is making you feel unsure about you and Halsey, it’s yourself. It’s your insecurities and your thoughts and and, and whatever!” Ryan wasn’t sure how to politely suggest that the only reason Josh would be avoiding Ryan to save his relationship would be that Josh was feeling something for Ryan that made him feel like his relationship was even at risk. Ryan hadn’t caused that insecurity. If Josh was projecting something onto Ryan, Ryan could only imagine what the real problem could be.

“I’m fine,” Josh said. “You’re the one with the problem.”

“Joshy, that’s bullshit,” Tyler interrupted. “Because I know you and I know that you’re the type of person to force yourself to face people even if you don’t like them one bit, let alone if they’re Ryan. This is your problem, whatever it is, and it’s fucked up to blame Ryan. He can’t do a damn thing to defend himself. Either tell Ryan what’s up or get over it quietly.”

Josh didn’t say a word. He looked away from both of them, out to the darkness of the window. “… I can’t say what’s wrong,” he told them after a long pause. “I won’t say. So I’m sorry.”

Ryan sighed and sat back in his chair, frustrated. “Does this mean I don’t even get my friend back?”

Josh grimaced. “I mean…”

“Fuck, Josh, I’m not mad at you for being an asshole, I’m mad at your for not being here at all,” Ryan said. “I’m in fucking need of some really positive vibes, and the Ways are fucking great, but they’re also all really busy with other things. I’ve been sleeping in Gee and Frank’s bed and I can tell that he lack of sex is really fucking getting to them. I’m a pain in their ass, but I can’t sleep in my room. I won’t be able to in a while. I just… Need you back.”

Josh looked to the top of the table. “… I’ll work on it.”

Ryan just nodded. That was better than nothing. He would take a little bit of Josh at a time as opposed to nothing at all. Josh meant so fucking much to him. He really needed the support. He really needed the fucking friendship that had helped him through so much awful all those years ago. He was going through some awful shit again. He just wanted Josh there.

“Well, I’m gonna go to bed,” Ryan sighed, standing and preparing himself to walk across the lawn again. He hated walking through the grass so late at night. All he could think about was all the nighttime bugs he’d be crushing with every step. It was revolting. 

“So soon?” Tyler asked. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. You don’t have to go to work.”

“I wouldn’t want to force Josh to be in my company any longer than necessary,” Ryan deadpanned, not caring how harsh he was being. He dropped his work bag to the living room floor as he made his way to the door, fully intending to leave.

“Wait,” Josh called out.

Ryan stopped walking, then turned back around with the heaviest sigh he’d ever given since he was a teenager.

Josh was looking pretty wary. “You don’t have to leave.”

“I don’t have a fucking bed, remember?” Ryan shook his head. “I’m tired. I haven’t slept in two days. I wanna go to bed and stay in bed for the whole weekend. Just get out of my head and this miserable shit. I’m tired of being awake, okay? It’s either this, or I do something stupid and angry.”

“You’re not that kind of person,” Josh said.

“My dad was,” Ryan replied. “And I’ve always been my father’s son.” He left and didn’t look back to see the look of exhausted regret on Josh’s face. It wouldn’t have helped him feel any better, anyways.

. . .

Ryan’s phone went off and he answered without thinking because he knew who it had to be.

“You heard about the pregnancy, didn’t you?” Brendon asked in a small voice.

“Considering you’re my soulmate, it would be impossible for me not to know,” Ryan sighed. “I don’t just stick my head in the fucking sand. I don’t hide from my problems, I fucking face them, because that’s what you’re supposed to do. You face the problems and beat them into the fucking ground, or die trying.”

Brendon was silent and Ryan waited impatiently for him to speak.

“Is she pregnant?” Ryan asked. “Did you really do this? Did you really fuck up your life this fucking badly?”

“She’s pregnant… I-I saw the test.”

Ryan ran a hand over his face. “Jesus christ.”

“I-I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t raise the kid if you don’t want to and she decides to keep it,” Ryan said. “You’re part of the equation, but just as she has the right to choose to raise the kid, so do you.” Ryan wasn’t sure why he was actually trying to help Brendon. He just knew that he couldn’t stop himself if he even tried. “People will give you so much shit for that, call you a terrible person or whatever, but it’s all hypocrisy and fucked up. They wouldn’t give the mother the same shit if she aborted the kid or put it up for adoption. Don’t listen to them if you choose not to raise it. You have a right to say no, too.”

Brendon sniffled and Ryan hated that his heart still hurt every time Brendon cried.

“Don’t give up your life for this mistake,” Ryan said softly. “You don’t owe that kid just as much as she doesn’t owe the kid either. Don’t buy into the world screaming that you have to take responsibility. It’s within your right as a human being to choose not to raise a kid you can’t love. If the woman can choose to do that, then so can you. You don’t have to raise this kid just because of your gender.”

“I’m so scared,” Brendon choked out. “I don’t wanna be a father. I’m too f-fucked up to be a dad.”

“Then don’t do it,” Ryan said. “Its within your own best interests, and the interests of the kid. A loveless parent is more damaging than an absent one. Trust me.”

“I don’t know how to fix all the things I’ve done,” Brendon cried.

“I don’t either,” Ryan said. “But you’ve got to figure it out. You fucking have to, Brendon.”

“I just want you back,” Brendon sobbed.

“I can’t fucking do this,” Ryan said, before hanging up. He left his phone in the living room and went back to bed.

. . .

Ryan went back for his phone three minutes later and called Spencer. One of the few numbers he had memorized. Ryan was a little surprised that the number actually worked. He wondered why Spencer hadn’t changed it.

Back after that concert so many years ago, Spencer had been all talk. Ryan had reached out multiple times to rekindle what they had been, but Spencer had always thrown in excuses about needing to take care of his kids and keep his wife happy and all this bullshit. Ryan understood that being a legitimate thing, except when it was every single fucking time Ryan even wanted to talk for more than five fucking seconds. Ryan had taken that shit lying down, but he was having a recent streak of not letting people walk all over him anymore. He was going to make Spencer fucking talk to him.

 _“Ryan?”_

Wow, way to sound so fucking surprised, Spence.

“Have you seen the news lately?” Ryan asked, not even bothering to ask if Spencer had time to talk. Spencer could make time. 

_“Of course I have. There are huge problems happening around the world, Ryan, I haven’t just shoved my head into the sand.”_

Ryan smirked a bit at the idiom. Ryan had gotten it from Spencer, after all. He remembered the day he and Spencer had been hiding in Ryan’s room while Ryan’s dad had gone on a drunk rage. Ryan had tried to convince Spencer not to say anything, but Spencer had insisted Ryan couldn’t hide from his problems, and god, Ryan tried not to miss Spencer, but he always did whenever he thought about him. That was why Ryan never thought about him. 

_“But why do you care about education in Syria?”_ Spencer asked.

Ryan paused. “… Are you serious?”

_“Deadly. These women deserve their education.”_

“Spence, I…” Ryan knew that by making this about something else would be so fucking special. He couldn’t be flippant. “Look, I do think that is important. I think everyone deserves equal opportunity. I am not saying it’s not important by changing the subject.”

 _“You’re changing the subject?”_ Spencer sounded oddly amused.

“God, fuck, just google Brendon’s name,” Ryan huffed.

 _“Jesus, don’t get your fucking panties in a wad,”_ Spencer said dryly. There was some clacking on the computer, and Ryan wondered if Spencer was at work. He realized he didn’t even know what Spencer’s job was. The clacking stopped. _“… Ryan.”_

“Don’t you dare say I told you so,” Ryan interrupted. “Just, please. Let me talk it through. You won’t actually listen, but I need someone that’s going to pretend to listen without throwing in what they think is right. Sound fair?”

_"I’ll listen,” Spencer told him. “Really.”_

Ryan didn’t believe him.

“I’m pretty sure that I need to do something about Brendon,” Ryan said. “But I don’t know what. Everyone is talking about it like they think I should forgive him in the end, and he’s apologized, but I feel like that’s too easy. I feel like I can’t just bend over and take it. What if he does this again? There will always be some other fan that has another sob story and wants something from him. How the fuck will I know when is enough? When will he have apologized enough times? If he even can?”

 _“Are you legitimately asking me, or is this you thinking out loud?”_ Spencer asked.

Ryan was surprised Spencer had been paying attention. “Thinking out loud,” he said. “And it’s just… how much will I have to sacrifice before he understands that I honestly and truly love him more than anything? And if he does know, then why the hell wasn’t it enough to keep him with me? Why the fuck couldn’t he just stay with me and not go sleeping around? Is that too much to ask?”

_“Is this still the thinking out loud thing?”_

“Fuck, Spence, I really appreciate you showing me you’re listening and shit, but if you keep interrupting me, I’m gonna forget what I was fucking talking about.”

 _“Geez, don’t bite my head off,_ ” Spencer snorted.

Ryan sighed raggedly. “I’m just angry! And I hate it! I wanna burn something again or blow something up! I wanna break things and break people and fuck shit up and leave my mark of absolute hatred on the world so no one can forget how fucking horrible it feels when someone you trusted just shits all over your fucking heart!”

 _“Brendon shit all over your heart,”_ Spencer repeated. Ryan could hear a smirk. He was a little upset Spencer was smiling, but he was mostly kinda happy that Spencer was smiling while talking to him. _“What do you want, Ryan? I know you know what everyone else wants. But what about you?”_

Ryan faltered. “… I want him back, Spencer. But I don’t want to give him what he wants. And I don’t want to be hurt again. And all I know is that h-he’s no longer the same little boy that I saved. He's someone else. I-I don’t know if I want whoever he’s become. I barely even know him anymore…”

_“Is the tour almost over?”_

“It is now. He was supposed to have another, I think, but he cancelled it.”

“ _He did?”_ Spencer asked, sounding a little shocked. _“Well geez, Ryan, you know I’m not a fan of him, but I gotta say— that’s really unlike him and probably a huge sacrifice on his part. I’m not saying that you gotta forgive him out of fucking nowhere because of one thing, but it’s a step in the right direction. He’s showing he felt remorse, I’m pretty sure. I know this isn’t a cure all, I just know you’re looking for some sort of sign to help you make a decision. Isn’t this kind like the sign you’ve been waiting for? Or one of many necessary signs.”_

“Fuck, you think?” Ryan asked running a hand through his hair.

 _“Maybe,_ ” Spencer replied. _“You shouldn’t make a decision yet. See what happens once he comes home. Where’s he staying?”_

“I don’t know,” Ryan said. “Not here. I don’t think anyone here would welcome him and he knows that. He’s probably gonna stay with Pete or something, which is fine. As long as he isn’t with that Kenneth guy. Dallon would be okay. Fuck, maybe Dallon would be better. He seems to have a pretty good head on his shoulders. He’s one of the few people I would trust to take care of Brendon.”

Spencer snorted.

Ryan frowned. “What?”

 _“That’s why everyone’s so sure you’re gonna forgive him,”_ Spencer said. _“Because he’s still your ultimate concern. Through fucking everything, you’re still obsessed with making sure that he’s okay, that he’s got a roof over his head, that he’s eating enough, and all this fucking bullshit, Ryan. He doesn’t deserve to have anyone care about him after what he’s done.”_

Ryan scowled. “That’s where you’re wro—” He cut himself off when he realized that by saying Brendon didn’t deserve to be treated like that would only support Spencer’s statement. Ryan sighed. “Fuck, Spence… I’m hopeless. Can’t even stand up for myself.”

_“Since when was forgiving someone the same as not sticking up for yourself?”_

Ryan paused. “I’m not sure,” he confessed. 

_“It takes a strong man to forgive someone, Ryan. You won’t be weak if you decide to forgive him. I’m not saying you should, but fuck, you’ve been listening to other people for way too long anyways. Just do whatever you fucking want, okay? Do whatever makes it easier for you to face the next day. That’s it.”_

“You’d tell me if I was being stupid, right?” Ryan asked.

Spencer snorted. _“You’re always fucking stupid.”_

Ryan smiled and it was tinged with sadness. “Thanks for listening, Spence.”

_“Sure thing, Ryan. I’ve got to go. The boss needs this presentation cleaned up and jazzed in the next hour.”_

Ryan nodded. He didn’t care if that was true or not. Spencer had stuck around for a few moments and that was what mattered to him. “Bye, Spence. Say hi to anyone if they know who I am.” He instantly winced after saying that, not liking how telling it was.

Spencer was quiet for a moment. _“… Few people deserve to know you, Ryan. I don’t share you with just everyone. Good luck with Brendon.”_ The click of Spencer hanging up the phone was oddly comforting in a way Ryan couldn’t explain. He wasn’t going to even bother.

. . .

Sunday morning, Patrick was at the door. 

“I figured I should let you know that Brendon’s home and staying with Dallon Weekes,” he told Ryan, looking apologetic. “Brendon didn’t want you to be afraid to visit Pete, so he asked to stay with Dallon.”

“That was nice of him,” Ryan said blandly. 

“Just thought you’d like to know where he is,” Patrick sighed.

Ryan wasn’t going to verbally admit that Patrick had been right to think so. “Thank you for telling me,” he said while trying to sound as stiff as possible. “And you and Pete? How’re you two? I’m sure you’re feeling a lot better after healing and shit. How’s Pete? Is he happy to have you back?”

Patrick paused. “… I know that me and Pete have probably missed a shit ton of the fallout, but I think that even this is a little too nonchalant.”

Ryan sighed and opened the door wider to let Patrick inside. 

“Pete’s waiting in the car,” Patrick said without stepping inside. 

“Then invite him inside,” Ryan told him. “I’m gonna want to talk to him anyways.”

Patrick sighed and went out of sight for a moment before coming back, with Pete following him. Pete wouldn’t meet Ryan’s eyes, and it made Ryan a little sad.

“Just to start,” Ryan said. “I’m not mad at you, Pete. Really.” He dropped onto the sofa and motioned for the other two men to sit wherever. It felt weird to have to welcome Pete and Patrick to sit down in Ryan’s own home. He’d always felt like they were close enough to not necessitate that, but Pete was a bit of a drama queen when it came to testy situations and things he felt incredibly guilty over. Ryan honestly didn’t see that as an entirely bad trait, except when it got in the way of Pete addressing or fixing anything. The avoidance issue could be so fucking aggravating.

Pete looked like he thought there was a dildo between the cushions that was set to fuck him straight up the ass if he sat down. Pete was strictly a top, “gay above the waist” guy, so Ryan knew that must be such a fucking awful thing for him to imagine, oh no, poor Pete, imagine trying to _take something up your ass._ Ryan sometimes wondered if Pete’s ignorance to taking in a homosexual relationship ever got on Patrick’s last nerve.

“Just sit down,” Ryan sighed, nudging Pete’s leg with his foot. “You’re not in fucking trouble or anything, okay? I just wanna talk to you about how Brendon’s doing.”

“Hah!” Patrick exclaimed. “I knew you fucking cared.”

Ryan sent Patrick a sour expression before pulling Pete down onto the sofa beside him. “Petey,” he said softly. “I’m not mad. I’m not blaming you. I know that you didn’t know what he was up to. From what it sounds like, he only slept with one girl. Just because you’re in the dark doesn’t mean you were the one to turn out the lights. It isn’t always your responsibility. Brendon isn’t your responsibility.”

"Then Brendon isn't your responsibility either," Patrick pointed out.

“Except he is,” Ryan told Patrick. “He really is, okay? Despite what all of you think. I was basically the person to raise him, so whatever negative traits or habits he has now are likely my fault, depending on whether I let the traits slip by unchecked or even cultured them in him myself.”

“You’re a lot more towards the nurture side of being a kid, aren’t you?” Patrick asked dryly.

“Absolutely,” Ryan affirmed, not playing into Patrick’s game. “Brendon is my responsibility and I refuse to let anyone tell me otherwise. There was a lot I could have done to prevent some of this shit, okay? I should’ve done something…”

“You’re not gonna start blaming yourself, are you?” Mikey asked, walking into the living room. He slung himself over the edge of the sofa and lied across Pete’s lap. He let his head rest on Ryan’s thigh. “Fucking what’s up, guys? I haven’t seen you too in months upon months. How long has it been?”

“Nearly a year,” Pete said, and fuck, Ryan hadn’t seen Brendon in almost a year. That felt so incredibly wrong. He couldn’t believe it had been so long. Weren’t soulmates supposed to want to be with each other constantly? Why the fuck did Brendon not want to be with him? Did he just not get the fucking memo? Jesus christ.

“Ryan’s not blaming himself, is he?” Mikey asked. “Because personally, I blame the shit out of Brendon. I mean, what kind of asshole cheats on someone? Regardless of whatever they’re gonna say was the reason. You can’t justify being a two-timing cheating piece of shit.”

“Tell us how you really feel,” Patrick snorted.

Pete sighed and reached down to pet Mikey’s hair and scratch at his scalp. Mikey looked very pleased with the action. “I don’t know, Ry. I never really ever got the feeling that he didn’t love you. I know I said he did after you first found out, but I think that’s just ‘cause someone in PR told him to be aloof for the cameras. But after you blew up at him, he was a different person. He was broken, Ryan. He is so broken. And he’s very sorry. I can just see it in his eyes, Ryan. I’ve never seen him look so messed up over anything before.”

Ryan’s expression was blank. “And that means what to me?”

Pete watched Ryan like he couldn’t understand him. “What happened to you, Ryan? You used to be so loving…”

Ryan scowled. “Are you—”

“Wow, Pete, hella rude,” Mike interrupted, reaching up to tug at Pete’s earlobe. “You don’t know how messy everything’s been. Ryan’s just a little stressed and he’s been stretching himself pretty thin for all of us. We very much appreciate how supportive he’s been for all of us, so now we’re gonna do the same for him, meaning you can leave all those mean comments at the fucking door— deal?” Mikey then gently pat Pete’s cheek. Ryan wouldn’t been a little suspicious to Mikey being drunk if he hadn’t seen Gerard throw out every drop of liquor out the window after Ryan and Mikey’s little night of temptation.

“You okay, Mikes?” Ryan asked with a bit of a smile. The goofy attitude was helping him feel a lot better. Maybe Mikey was acting like this on purpose. 

“Pretty good, Ry,” Mikey hummed. “Everything working out between you and Joshy now?”

Ryan grimaced. “Not that I can tell.”

“Where are Tyler and Josh?”

“Tyler and Josh are here?” Patrick asked.

“What’s wrong with Josh?” Pete asked.

“So many questions,” Ryan blanched. “Fuck. It’s just a long story, okay? Tyler and Josh are out at the beach right now, hanging out and getting some quality time. They’ve been apart for so long. They really deserve to have some fun together. Honestly, it sucks that they have to live an entire country apart. They’ve been itching to see each other again.”

“But what’s with Josh?” Pete repeated. “Is he in trouble?”

“More like I am,” Ryan sighed. “He just… All I’m gonna say is that we’re having a bit of a fight. And Tyler had to fly all the way down here just for us to resolve it. It’s a little ridiculous, in my opinion, but Josh was honestly feeling a lot about some very particular things and I had to handle it.”

Pete looked worried. “He’s mad at you?”

“More like madly in love,” Mikey said.

Ryan frowned down at Mikey. “Are you crazy?” He’d only been talking shit when he’d said that to Tyler and Josh.

“I mean, it makes sense,” Mikey said. “It’s what high schoolers do. When they like someone that they’re not supposed to, they act all weird and shit. When a guy has gay feelings for a friend, they blame the other person of coming onto them to try and explain. What do you call that?”

“Transference,” Ryan replied.

“That,” Mikey said. “He’s totally transferring. Transforming.”

“Transferring was correct,” Ryan snorted.

“Fuck you and your rules,” Mikey chuckled.

“Wait, Josh is gay?” Pete asked. “I thought he wasn’t?”

“You don’t fuck another dude for years without being gay,” Mikey said.

“He’s not,” Ryan denied. He didn’t want that much more stress in his life. He just needed one fucking part of his life to be normal, just one. Or maybe, the fact that Mikey was getting over his alcoholism was the sign life needed to fuck another aspect of Ryan’s life up. Maybe the world had a quota for fucking him over.

“God, Ryan,” Mikey chuckled. “Abandon fucking ship dude. You’re gonna kill yourself with sleeping too much, you know that, right? And you don’t deserve that kind of end. You’re a good guy and it seems like you’re stuck between anger and sadness and that’s definitely not the way to live. Is there anything you can take for that? Any sort of therapy? Do you believe in therapy? Fuck, would it even work for you?”

“It wouldn’t,” Ryan said. “I know all the tricks. All the methods. I know everything they’re gonna try and it wouldn't work at all. I would just be bitter and unhappy and whole time and nothing would get done, Mikey. I’d just be frustrated with myself and the therapist and it would make it worse.”

“You’re so positive,” Patrick said. “And on that happy note, I was thinking we should go get dinner. Mikey? Wanna come with?”

Mikey shook his head. “Ray’s been busy getting all prepped for his surgery. I’m here for moral support. My poor baby.” Mikey was smiling as he spoke. 

“He’s getting the surgery?” Pete asked, beginning to smile too.

Mikey nodded. “Ryan got through to him, I guess.”

“It wasn’t me,” Ryan said, 

“It totally fucking was,” Mikey said. “Ray doesn’t like to listen to me because he sometimes thinks that my emotions have clouded my judgement and that my attachment to him will actually skew my decision making. But Ryan— Ryan’s totally the least emotional person ever.” Ryan could practically see the sarcasm dripping from Mikey’s voice. He didn’t appreciate such a condescending tone. It was fucking rude.

“You’re rude,” Ryan deadpanned. “Go the fuck to bed. The adults are gonna get dinner.”

“Don’t stay out too late!” Mikey chimed in. “And also, it’s nine in the fucking morning. So enjoy your “dinner,” you idiots.” Mikey put air quotes are the word “dinner” and Ryan wondered how he could have gained an entire mental day. 

Patrick got up and pulled Pete up with him, then Ryan. “We’re getting tacos.”

Ryan and Pete both nodded. “I could go for tacos,” Ryan said. He definitely didn’t want to start a fight. Mikey just snickered and said some dirty joke about vaginas before going upstairs.

. . .

Ryan got home from the dinner-turned-lunch and was faced with a surprise in the foyer of the second house.

Brendon stood there, fiddling with the house key he had, looking around the place like it was somewhere new. Somewhere foreign and anxiety inducing and looking like the very definition of out of place. Ryan actually hung back, because he’d come in through the side door that was by the back door of the property. He didn’t want Brendon to see him just yet. Ryan wanted to just look at him. Take in Brendon’s physique and stature and if he was eating or not. See how much sleep Brendon had been getting if it was possible to see from Brendon’s stance alone. Ryan could see that Brendon had been biting his nails because Brendon bit his nails right there in the foyer, looking very accustomed to the habit. Ryan remembered learning that to be a more minor form of self harm when done in habit for anxious feelings. Ryan’s eyes darted to Brendon’s wrist and his heart sunk when he saw Brendon was wearing long sleeves. But then he remembered it was winter.

Ryan sighed and cursed himself for being so quick to assume the worst. Maybe Brendon had told a good tale about being broken, but Ryan couldn’t prove that. Brendon could’ve just been playing the part of a heartbroken and burned lover. Ryan had no way of knowing if any of Brendon’s reaction had been legitimate. Horrible upbringings made good liars, or so Ryan had heard. He had no way of knowing if Brendon was actually remorseful.

Still. Ryan couldn’t deny that Brendon did look worse. It wasn’t exactly obvious; more like a subtle loss of something Ryan couldn’t place. Brendon’s hair was a little less brilliant and full and his eyes seemed a little more sunken in. There was a splotchiness to his cheeks and neck like he’d been crying and fuck, Brendon had never bitten his nails before. Ryan didn’t know if it was from the stress of being on tour, but how could it be? Brendon loved touring. He loved being on the road and shining like the star he was. Ryan couldn’t imagine that touring had become anything but addictive and enjoyable for Brendon.

Ryan almost sighed before he realized how loud that would be in the quiet of the house. Ryan bit his lip, before mentally preparing himself to step into view. He wasn’t sure how this conversation was going to go, but he knew that he needed to be calm and collected and act like the fucking adult that he was.

Then he heard someone start to trudge down the stairs. Ryan’s blood ran cold as he witnessed the very moment Josh saw Brendon in the house. 

“You fucking fucker,” Josh growled, stepping forward, approaching Brendon with the very intent to kill. Brendon backed up towards where Ryan was and Ryan knew he had to reveal himself.

“Joshy, just calm down,” Ryan said, holding a hand up in caution, stepping forward. Brendon looked bewildered between the two of them, inching towards Ryan like he knew Ryan would protect him no matter what. Ryan was loathe to admit Brendon was right. It might also have had to do with how Josh was looking like he was out for Brendon’s heart on a silver platter.

“Do you have any fucking idea what you’ve done?” Josh demanded in a low, dangerous voice, pushing past Ryan. “You fucking piece of shit, you’ve fucked Ryan over one too many fucking times!” Ryan heard the crack of Josh’s fist hitting Brendon’s face before he actually saw it. It was like physics were failing in this moment of absolute shock. What Ryan hated most was how Brendon didn’t even make a sound as his head was snapped to the side.

“Holy shit, stop!” Ryan shouted, darting forward as the sharp sound of bone hitting bone sounded against with Josh’s second hit to Brendon’s face. Ryan got between Josh and Brendon, hoping to god that his intervention would make Josh stop, until his vision flashed white for a second and Ryan realized he was on the ground with a throbbing jaw.

He blinked sluggishly and looked up, wanting to know how he had gotten on the floor. Josh and Brendon were both staring at him in absolute horror.

“You hit Ryan!” Brendon shrieked.

“Oh fuck, Ryan,” Josh choked out, covering his mouth with his hands. Josh’s knuckles looking pretty messed up. He’d only thrown three punches. Ryan wondered how hard those hits had been. 

“Ryan, Ryan,” Brendon babbled, dropping to the floor and reaching out to touch Ryan. But Ryan avoided Brendon’s hands. Josh did the same, though he looked like he’d been hit by a bus. Ryan flinched from Josh’s hands as well. Josh looked so fucking wrecked by that.

“Get away from him,” Mikey said, suddenly in Ryan’s line of sight. “Give him some fucking room, you bastards.” Mikey grabbed Ryan by his arms that weren’t extended and pulled him up, taking him to the stairs. “If either of you follow us, I’m fucking calling Frank. Or the cops. Take your fucking pick. Just don’t you fucking dare come near him and don’t you dare touch each other.”

“What happened?” Tyler asked as they passed him in the hallway. His eyes trained on Ryan’s jaw. Ryan wished he could see what was wrong with his face. He wanted to know if he should wear makeup tomorrow for class.

Mikey sat him down on the toilet and went for the first aid kit under the sink. Ryan wondered why it was there, considering he had never restocked the kit and moved it up here. He wanted to look in the mirror.

“How bad is it?” Ryan asked softly. 

Mikey looked to Ryan and didn’t say anything.

Ryan grimaced. It hurt to make that expression. “That bad?”

“I’ll be impressed if you can stand the pain of opening your mouth tomorrow,” Mikey said. “Trust me. You don’t wanna see this.” He brought a cloth up to dab at the spot. It stung and the cloth came back bloody. Ryan stared at it.

“H-how am I bleeding?”

Mikey shook his head. “Split the skin, I guess. Josh really knows how to hit.”

Ryan wet his lips. “… Why did this happen?”

Mikey shook his head. 

Footsteps sounded and Ryan dreaded the body they carried. Anyone would be hell. Gerard would demand answers, Frank would spit fire, Tyler would pity him, Josh would scare him, and Brendon… Brendon would make him a little sick. After all of Ryan’s talk of being able to distance himself from Brendon, he’d taken a fucking hit for him. Ryan had no control over himself. He had no control at all. Ryan’s life was spiraling, and he was taking hits for a kid who fucked someone else. Fuck.

Josh stood in the doorway and Ryan tensed.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Mikey growled.

“I have to talk to Ryan,” Josh said. His face was white as a sheet. Josh’s hands were shaking.

“You’re not saying a fucking word to him, so get your ass out—”

“I don’t mind,” Ryan lied, interrupting Mikey before he could curse more. “What is it?”

Josh wrung his fingers in his shirt. “Can I talk to you alone?”

“Fuck no,” Mikey denied.

“Sure,” Ryan said.

“ _No_ ,” Mikey repeated, looking to Ryan with narrowed eyes. “You’re not talking to him alone. Ryan, I don’t give a shit what your head is telling you right now. You shouldn’t be alone with a guy who just clocked you in the jaw regardless of how well you know him. This wasn’t some petty fist fight all guys have. This was serious.”

Ryan sighed and nodded.

“Just say it, Josh,” Mikey bit out.

Josh looked so scared. Ryan pitied him until his jaw throbbed hard enough to remind him of the shit that had just gone down.

“I-I can’t,” Josh choked out.

“Then leave,” Mikey spat.

“I’m in love with you, Ryan,” Josh said in a rush, like he’d needed to say it before he stopped himself. “I-I tried to fight back, but I couldn’t. Halsey found out. She, she’s so fucking angry with me, Ryan, and she won’t even talk to me and I don’t fucking blame her. I’m in love with you, I think I’m still in love with you from when we fucked and i-it’s really messing me up. And I know I said I wasn’t and I know I’m a huge fucking dick for lying to you, even more for acting like such an ass to you these past few days, and I’m sorry. I’m still in love with you and it hurts because I know that I will never get a second chance to be with you, like my heart is literally screaming for me to be. I know Debby was my soulmate, but you were the closest thing I ever got to having a soulmate in person. 

“There’s no way around this for me. I’ve tried everything I can to move on and be with someone who can actually stay with me and I’ve done everything I can to love that person like I’m supposed to, but it’s exhausting and nearly impossible at this point and I’ve given up. I’m done fighting. I’m in love with you, Ryan, and I’ll never be able to fall out of love. I’m sorry.”

Josh ducked out of the bathroom and Ryan stared on in shock.

“Holy shit,” Mikey breathed, wide eyed. “Ryan…”

Ryan looked to Mikey, then to the tiled floor. “… Thanks for the help. I’m going to bed.”

He didn’t wait for Mikey to finish patching him up.


	11. Taking on Hell with a Water Pistol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> remember when you guys said you didn't think it could get much worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahAHAHAHA HA HA
> 
> **i just saw the MCRX announcement and i wanna fucking die**

Ryan didn’t sleep that night and regretted it, but his jaw throbbed too hard for him to get any rest, and his mind was far too awake. He couldn’t stop replaying the words Josh had said to him over and over and fucking over again. 

Josh was in love with him?   
Josh was in love with him.

Ryan felt a little scared at the thought. He knew he’d been the one to suggest it a while ago, but he couldn’t withstand the idea that Josh had been suffering with those thoughts inside of him for so long. And he was even more disturbed to wonder how many times Josh had taken advantage of him through Ryan’s unwitting ignorance to Josh’s emotions. How many times had Josh hugged Ryan with more to his agenda than just friendly reassurance? Fuck, what had Josh done to Ryan while Ryan was asleep?

No.

No, Ryan couldn’t think like that. Especially not about Josh. Josh was an inherently good person. Josh would never abuse and pervert Ryan’s trust like that. Josh was kind and gentle and loving and he would never, ever hurt a fly.

… Except he’d hurt Ryan. And Brendon.

Ryan’s hand nursed his jaw for most of the night, though not for the pain, but the inability to catch up. The hit was a complete accident, but Ryan had a hard time separating the fist from the mind and the eye. Josh had hit Ryan and it had hurt. It didn’t matter what the intentions were. The world was so messed up. Too busy looking for the worst of a group and then turning around insisting on being judged for its own best intentions. How backwards and sickening.

Ryan went to work robotically that day robotically. Jon looked shocked at the bruise Ryan still hadn’t looked at. 

“Did you at least disinfect it?” Jon had asked. Ryan hadn’t had an answer for him. He’d been silent on the way to work with the exception of a few words here and there as half-assed responses. Jon had caught on quickly and been quiet for Ryan’s sake. Kellin caught on pretty quickly that something horrible in Ryan’s life had just happened, and even Ryan’s students had begun to understand by the end of the day. Most just finished their final and wished him luck with whatever was happening. Ryan had appreciated it. He wished he could have been a little more receptive for his student’s last day. He also wished he hadn’t had the bruising. A few of his coworkers had asked a few questions. One of them had even mentioned (as slyly as possible, which wasn’t very sly at all) domestic abuse, but Ryan had just given her the stink eye. He wasn’t going to stand for anyone accusing Brendon of this.

“That could scar, Ryan,” Jon told Ryan gently as he drove him home. “You should put some antiseptic on it. Maybe some bactine.”

“I don’t care,” Ryan said. “Thanks, though.” He got out of the car and stared at the house. He realized he didn’t want to go home. That was an awful feeling. To have this idea that you were ostracized or unwelcome in your own home. That you weren’t safe there. He didn’t want to be with Josh right now because he had no way to respond to this. He had no way to reply, no response, absolutely no idea how he was supposed to handle this. He’d never experienced anything like this, he had always kinda lived thinking that he would never have to be subjected to this kind of stress. Ryan wasn’t a coveted person and he wasn’t really desired by anyone, and that wasn’t his insecurity talking. Ryan had just never been someone people were attracted to, and he’d never really cared enough to explain why, but now…

Fuck, Joshy.

Ryan’s heart broke for him. Literally broke. He knew what it felt like to yearn for something who was with another person and know that you might never have them. Ryan had spent years living in doubt about actually being able to Brendon away from his family. And with the added problem of Sarah, a sweet girl who gave Brendon so much temptation, Ryan knew intimately well how hopeless and destroyed Josh had to feel. Fuck, Ryan wished he could help. Now that he knew the real and awful truth behind why Josh had been avoiding him, his heart went out to the other man. He wished he could help. He wanted to help. He fucking needed to help.

Ryan went inside and found Tyler. “Where’s Josh?” he demanded.  
 Tyler watched Ryan warily. “Are you going to yell at him?”

Ryan shook his head. “Need to talk to him.”

Tyler bit his lip. “… He’s apartment shopping. I was actually supposed to meet him.”

Ryan felt cold everywhere. He knew it showed on his face when Tyler’s expression dropped into something that spoke volumes of pity. “Fuck, Ryan, I’m so sorry he—”

“He’s going to leave me?” Ryan asked in a tiny voice. “But… he promised me that he never would. He promised he’d never leave, that out of everyone in the word, h-he would never be the one to abandon me, but now…” Ryan slowly brought his hands up to hold onto the wall next to him. His heart started to pound and his vision began to splotch, white and gray flashes blocking his sight. He couldn’t feel his limbs but he somehow knew that his hands were shaking and there was a roaring in his ears, like a monster in his head that was screaming to devour him. 

Ryan realized he was on the floor before the screaming overtook his awareness again and he realized that this was a panic attack. This was a panic attack. He was having a panic attack and he was so scared. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t do anything. He felt like his circuits were malfunctioning and he wanted to die. He wanted to die to escape this. He kept trying and failing to breathe and it felt like there was a huge weight collapsing onto his shoulder, a weight much more than he could ever bare, especially on his own. And he was on his own. He didn’t have Brendon or Joshy and that meant he was alone. Ryan was utterly and completely alone.

_“Ryan!”_

A slap to the face woke Ryan up, the harsh hit stinging his cheek. He was just grateful it was on the bruised side of his face. Ryan looked to Tyler and let out this broken whimper, still unable to breathe. He gasped for breath, his chest heaving with the effort. Tyler was sitting in front of him with panic written all over his face. Then tyler was gone and Ryan started spiraling again without anything to ground him. He distantly wished he could be slapped again.

Tyler came back and suddenly Ryan was very, very wet. He gasped and hit his head on the wall behind him and finally the screaming stopped. He had a split second to look to Tyler, say “thank you,” and then he inexplicably blacked out.

. . .

_“What?” Brendon gasped, looking terrified._

_Ryan looked around the room he was in with Brendon and couldn’t recognize it at first until he realized it was the small music store he used to go to when he was a little kid. The same place where he’d taught himself to play guitar. The pianos and brass and wind instruments were all on the left wall while the sheet music was in the center and all of the more alternatively known instruments, like the guitars and drum-sets, were to the right. He looked around with soft reminiscence and tried not to get emotional over what he saw._

_“Ryan, where are we?” Brendon asked, walking up to Ryan and hiding onto the bottom of Ryan’s sleeve with a fist. Ryan pulled his arm away on instinct because he couldn’t mentally process anything that was currently happening._

_This store had been demolished when he’d turned fifteen._

_“Are we in my head?” Ryan asked in a whisper. He’d never… He had no idea if this was different, but he knew Brendon couldn’t have this memory to supply the room. “This is my head…”_

_“I was a-at dinner,” Brendon babbled, literally pulling at his hair with absolutely hysteria written all over his face. “And now I’m here. I’m here! Where am I?” Brendon went for the door of the store, but it was lock. The bell above the door jingled as Brendon furiously pushed and pulled at the door. Ryan looked to the windows and was a little disturbed by the complete, inky blackness that was beyond them. There weren’t even streetlamp of the parking lot that Ryan knew had been outside this store back when it had existed._

_“Ryan, I’m scared,” Brendon almost sobbed, looking to Ryan with an expression that begged for comfort. Ryan knew that look into Brendon’s face to so well. He didn’t want to help the kid. He didn’t want to fall into familiar roles like an abuse victim falling back to his abuser. But Brendon looked ready to cry and Ryan knew Brendon had never experienced anything like this before. Brendon had never been forced into the dream world. “I just wanted to be with you! Not be here!”_

_Now that… was odd._

_Did Brendon’s mind want to be with Ryan so badly that it shut down Brendon’s body the second Ryan was asleep to connect themselves to each other? God, was Ryan still out of control? The thought made his hands shake and he wondered how adverse it would be to have a panic attack within a dream that had possibly been brought on by a panic attack. Ryan just hated to realize that he would never, ever be able to have the same affect on Brendon as Brendon had on him. Not really._

_Fuck, Brendon was crying now._

_Ryan needed to get over himself._

_He reached out and took Brendon into his chest, deciding that what he wanted wasn’t as important right than. Comforting Brendon wouldn’t mean that he had forgiven him. It was just the right thing to do. “We’re in my head,” he explained calmly. “This is a store I used to go to a lot as a kid. We’re just in my head as opposed to yours, okay? You’re safe.”_

_Brendon sniffled, hiding in Ryan’s neck. “Y-your head? You lived here as a kid? They kept you in a store?”_

_Ryan almost smiled and he then shook his head. “I was here when I taught myself to play guitar… I don’t often associate places with feelings of safety, regardless of whether or not I’ve ever felt safe in a place in the first place. It’s crazy that this is my dream room. I-I’ve always wondered where dreaming would put me.”_

_“You’ve never been in a dream room before?” Brendon asked, obviously wanting something to talk about to distract him. Ryan shook his head again_

_“Only ever yours,” Ryan said. “Never been in my own head. Only ever been torn into yours.”_

_Brendon was quiet for a moment. “… Were you as scared as I am now?”_

_Ryan was a little thrown by this question because it was an indirect statement referring to Brendon’s ability to think about someone that wasn’t himself. To care about Ryan. Ryan had always been skeptical of Brendon ever caring about him, but here was proof that Brendon did care. God, did Ryan feel a little shitty now._

_“I was very scared,” Ryan confessed. “I never knew when I would fall asleep. What I could be doing when I did get put under. I was scared to go outside. Scared to do anything at all. I didn’t want to collapse in the middle of public. I had to be careful about everything I did for those six years. It was stressful and scary and… I’m so happy those years are behind me.”_

_Brendon nodded. “My face hurts from where Josh hit me. Does yours hurt too?” Brendon sat up and reached up to hold Ryan’s jaw delicately in one hand. Ryan forced himself not to flinch. “You shouldn’t have gotten in the way,” Brendon mumbled, looking ashamed with himself. “I’m not worth this.”_

_Ryan could only shrug. He knew what Brendon wanted him to say. He just wasn’t ready to say it. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be._

_Brendon stared at Ryan for a bit longer. “How should I fix this?” he asked softly._

_Ryan shook his head. “I don’t have an answer for you.”_

_Brendon pursed his lips,then reached out and tapped three fingers on Ryan’s collarbone. Ryan didn’t understand the gesture, but he was sure it brought Brendon some sort of comfort so he wasn’t going to deny Brendon the touch._

_“I’m going to fix this,” Brendon suddenly said. “I have an idea.” He smiled up at Ryan. “I’m going to wake up now.”_

. . .

Being torn out of his own dream world felt like being turned inside out. He woke up shaking and disorientated and hated fucking everything. He didn’t even bother letting the others know he awake. He just took his car, drove to a Wal-Mart parking lot, and slept there until the next morning.

. . .

He went to work and frowned when he saw flowers on his desk. A huge bouquet of sunflowers and lavender and a small little box of chocolates and a small folded note. Ryan opened the note and then dropped it closed like he’d been burned. He ran a hand through his hair, breathed slowly, then opened the card again.

_“Have a good day! Love you!  
-Brendon”_

Ryan shuddered and tried not to freak out too obviously. He had fucking flowers on his desk from Brendon and Josh was trying to move out and it was finals weeks and Ryan had so many tests to grade, _fuck._ He didn’t have the emotional capacity for this, but he couldn’t blame Brendon. He knew Brendon was doing what Brendon thought would help fix things and Ryan honestly didn’t mind that Brendon was trying. The fact that Brendon had thought of this gesture (hopefully on his own) was a huge deal to Ryan. Brendon was actually trying something. Ryan honestly hadn’t expected that.

“Nice flowers, Dr. Ryan,” a student commented as she came in and sat down. “Who are they from?” Her expression was tentative. Nearly everyone in the fucking school now knew about Ryan being Brendon’s soulmate and the horrible fall out. She probably thought they were from some girl Ryan was going to start seeing. Ryan was pretty sure it had only been a few weeks since the reveal of Brendon’s cheating. 

“They’re from Brendon,” Ryan said, seeing no sense in lying. She looked very surprised at that. Ryan managed a small smile. “I know. I’m just as shocked as you are. But I’m not about to look a gifted horse in the mouth.” He moved the flowers to the side so they didn’t block his view and slid the chocolates into his bag. “Are you ready for your test?”

The rest of his classes were polite conversations and goodbyes. Ryan went through his day without much of a hitch because it was suddenly easy for him to ignore all the problems he had at home when he could stare at the sunflowers. He planned on calling Josh after work and demanding answers on him trying to move out, but Ryan wasn’t going to let him stress out just yet. He knew he could handle this. The sunflowers made him feel better.

. . .

“Where’d the flowers come from?” Gerard asked fro the kitchen table he was sitting at with Frank. They were bent over paperwork and had only looked up at the introduction of the bright colors the flowers brought. Ryan hesitated. He didn’t want to start a fight. 

“Brendon,” he finally said. “He sent them to my work with chocolates. They, uh, they smell really nice.”

Gerard tensed and Frank scowled. 

“You should throw those out,” Frank said.

“Where are Ray and Mikey?” Ryan asked. He wanted the conversation away from the flowers.

“At the doctor’s,” Gerard told him. “Setting up a date for the surgery. We think it’ll be in a day or two. They want to work quickly because they know that they’ve been lucky with how stagnant the cancer has been until now. They want to do this as soon as possible.”

“I have literally never heard of a surgery happening that suddenly,” Ryan said. “They usually leave months in preparation. Is it really that urgent?”

“They can do surgery suddenly for things like appendicitis,” Frank reminded him.

“Appendicitis isn’t brain surgery,” Ryan said.

“I’m just grateful it’s happening,” Gerard sighed. “We needed this, you know? We needed this little leeway. I mean, we’ve got a lot to deal with, but at least worrying about the day Ray’s gonna drop dead isn’t one of them. We’ve got our family back, tentatively.”

Ryan paused. “… Josh is looking for a new place to live.”

Gerard’s eyes went wide. “What?” he squeaked. “Why? Oh god, did something happen? Is he okay? Fuck, Ryan, are you okay?”

Ryan grimaced and looked down. “He, uh… he said he was in love with me. And that he couldn’t not be in love with me, so he had to leave. I just… I’ve lost my best friend and my soulmate pretty closely to each other and my jaw still hurts.”

Gerard’s eyes shot open wider and he mouthed, “no, no,” but it was too late and Frank’s eyes narrowed. “Why does your jaw hurt?” he asked in a low tone.

Ryan hesitated. He wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong though he knew he’d fucked up majorly. “Uh, well… Brendon show up and Josh started to hit him.” Gerard was still frantically mouthing “no” and making a cutting motion with his hand at his neck to signal for Ryan to stop, but Ryan knew that he couldn’t just backtrack and expect Frank to drop it. “And I got in the way and Josh accidentally hit me, but—”

Frank was out of his chair in a flash and standing in front of Ryan, grabbing Ryan’s chin and turned his head sharply to inspect the bruise. Ryan realized Gerard had never told Frank where the bruise had come from for a very important reason. Frank scowled. “Fucking gonna kill him.”

“It was an accident,” Ryan tried to defend.

“The fucker shouldn’t have been hitting anyone in the first fucking place,” Frank snapped. “We don’t fucking hit people, Ryan. You’ve said it yourself, held me to that fucking rule like it was from the bible, and now Josh is fucking breaking it and that cannot stand. We don’t fucking hit people.”

Ryan couldn’t deny that. He’d honestly always lived in a fairytale world where Josh would’ve never been able to stomach doing something like that to another person, especially someone who looked as weak and helpless as Brendon. “We don’t hit people,” he repeated softly.

The front door opened and closed and Mikey came running in, shouting excitedly and even crying a little. “Friday!” Mikey shouted. “Ray’s getting it removed Friday!” Then he ran back outside and probably helped Ray out of the car. Ryan felt this surge of relief run through him like oxygen in a drowning man and he hadn’t realized he’d been so invested. It felt the same as when he first heard that Ray would get the surgery. He supposed that he’d just shoved this worry to the back of his mind and existed with it constantly niggling at his neurons. But now that the worry was alleviated, he felt light. 

“Fuck, thank god,” Ryan said. “I needed good news.”

Mikey came back inside pushing a wheelchair with Ray inside and for a split second, Ryan was worried again, because Ray was visually shorter than Mikey for the first time ever and it felt a little wrong. But this was actually progress thinly veiled as a step backwards. Ray had just never been in a wheelchair before. 

Ray smiled tiredly and waved to everyone. Ryan waved back, also making himself smile. Then Ray’s eyes lit up. “Did Brendon get you flowers?” Ray asked, looking a little excited. Ryan was thrown for a loop. 

“How did you know they were from Brendon?” he asked hesitantly. 

“The day that weird fight happened, where Josh kept hitting Brendon? Brendon came to see me afterwards. He wanted to see how I was doing and stuff and we talked and it was very sweet. Then he started telling me about his ideas to help fix things between him and you. He has some really good ideas, Ryan. I think you should let him try. He was very passionate about fixing things.”

Ryan was still processing the first part. “He… he’d gone to talk to you?”

Ray smiled and nodded. 

Mikey frowned. “Were you alone with him, Ray?” He sounded like he obviously didn’t like the idea. “Ray, Brendon’s pretty disliked around here right now. I don’t think you should’ve been alone with him.”

“I know you guys feel like he didn’t care about me and that was why he went on tour, but I don’t feel the same,” Ray told them patiently. “Brendon is too intrinsically kind of a person to do that. I know most of you would also disagree with me there. But I also know that I would’ve given up a lot to continue to follow my dream should cancer have never been a factor in my life. I wouldn’t have sacrificed the people I love, but I would’ve sacrificed a lot of other things. It’s simply what people have to do to be happy. Some people have to do more than others. There’s no shame in following a dream, so long as you don’t hurt anyone along the way, intentionally or unintentionally.”

“This isn’t really defending Brendon,” Frank pointed out.

“Brendon isn’t like us,” Ray told them. “He isn’t. And you all know that. He wasn’t raised to understand social cues and ideas and common sense. He doesn’t realize that he hurt us by following his dream. He just feels his own happiness and assumes everyone else feels happy too. Almost like he believes the world exists in some sort of hive mind. And he’s just now beginning to understand that it doesn’t work that way. And he’s pretty freaked out, to say the least, but he’s trying to cope and I think he’s doing a really good job so far.”

“He cheated on Ryan,” Frank stressed. Gerard nodded fervently beside Frank.

“And the aftermath was the wakeup call he needed,” Ray replied. “I’m not saying his ignorance should excuse his actions, I’m just offering it as an explanation. And I think Ryan knows exactly what I’m talking about, right?”

Ryan had his arms crossed unhappily across his chest, but he knew Ray had a point. Brendon wasn’t like anyone, really, and Ryan needed to stop expecting Brendon to be like the rest of them. Brendon still had a lot to learn and Ryan… Ryan was the only person Ryan trusted to teach Brendon anything.

“I’ll think about it,” Ryan mumbled. 

Ray smiled. “He asked me what kind of flowers you liked. I honestly had no idea, so I just told him sunflowers because you’re just a pocket full of sunshine, aren’t you?”

“Are you being sarcastic?” Mikey asked dryly.

“Completely,” Ray said. 

“Fuck you guys, I’m delightful,” Ryan grumbled. 

“I don’t want Brendon in this house alone, for a little while,” Gerard spoke up. “Not while Ray is healing after the surgery. I can’t trust Brendon to be able to act should there be an emergency.”

Everyone seemed to agree on that.

“I, uh, I’m gonna go call Josh,” Ryan told them once it seemed like the conversation was over.

Gerard looked to him sympathetically. “Good luck, Ryan. I-I hope it works out.”

Ryan nodded and crossed the lawn.

. . .

After a warm shower, Ryan went to sit on one of the lawn chairs. He didn’t really wanted a lot of people to overhear the conversation, but he also know that he would need the fresh air to keep himself from having another panic attack. Tyler was actually with Josh at the moment, and Ryan had recently learned that Josh had even gone so far as to get a temporary hotel room. It felt more horrible than words could describe that Josh was avoiding him like this. Ryan knew he should be understanding of Josh’s problem, but fuck that. Ryan needed his best friend.

When he dialed Josh’s number, Josh wasn’t the one to pick up.

_“It’s Tyler. Josh saw your name on the phone and refused to answer.”_

Ryan rested his head in his hands. “Fuck.”

 _“I’m sorry, Ryan,”_ Tyler sighed. _“I’ve been trying to talk to him, but he keeps saying that he can’t do it. Can’t see you. He says it’s too difficult for him and all that bullshit and that you’ll be fine without him. You and I know both that’s a crock of stupid, right?”_

Ryan brought his knees to his chest and rested his feet on the edge of the seat. “It is a crock of stupid. I kinda fucking need him. A lot. Brendon sent me flowers at work and Ray’s getting surgery and a lot of stuff is happening at once and I just need the sort of security Josh gives me. Is Josh there?”  
 Tyler paused. _“Yeah.”_

“Can you put the phone on speaker?”

There was a rustling, then a sort of beep. _“You’re on,”_ Tyler said.

Ryan bit his lip. “… Joshy? You there?”

There was no response from Josh.

 _“He’s here,”_ Tyler said.

“Joshy, I know you’re upset,” Ryan began softly. “I know that you’re hurting, and god, believe me when I say that I know what you’re going through. I know the pain you’re feeling, the jealousy and the lack of self worth. How you’re scared that the reason it’s unrequited is because of something wrong with yourself. I can’t tell you anything that will make you feel better, Josh, and I’m sorry. I wish I could help you. All I can tell you is this—

“You are my best fucking friend. You are the best friend I have ever had. You’ve been here for me no matter what I’ve done to you, no matter how I’ve treated you, no matter what I’ve done. You’ve been with me through thick and thin and some of the darkest moments of my life. You’ve get me from ending it, Joshy, you’ve saved my life, and I don’t have words for how much you mean to me. You’re my fucking savior and you’re one of the most important people in the world to me, okay? I would take a bullet for you. I’d die for you. Fuck, Josh, if it came down to it, like in the movies? I would kill for you. And I know that makes you uncomfortable and I know you think that’s wrong, but it’s the truth.

“And I know that you’re going to be hurting for a long time over this because I was born to be with Brendon and I’m beginning to realize that I intend to fight to die with him as well. I can’t give you what you want and I’m so fucking sorry for that, but it needs to be said. Maybe you won’t end up with Halsey, but I know you won’t end up alone. You’re an amazing fucking person and if I didn’t have Brendon, I would’ve fallen in love with you when we first met in the hospital.

“And you’re strong, Josh. You are so fucking strong. You’ve lived through the unimaginable and come out on top and that… Fuck, I look up to you. I look to you for inspiration and a reason to keep going. You went through one of the worst things to ever happen to a person and you survived and made a life for yourself and it’s amazing, Josh. You’re amazing. I want to be like you. I aim to be like you and one day, maybe, I’ll be somewhere close. Maybe I’ll be able to reach just the bottom of your level of humanity one day. And I think everyone should try to be like you because you’re a good fucking person and that is just so rare these days.

“And I think you’re gonna do some amazing things, Joshy, and I’m just begging that you’ll let me be with you at the end of the day. That I’ll be by your side as your friend and companion and even family. I want to be there for every moment of your life, good and bad, and I want to support you like you’ve supported me.”

Ryan paused. He waited for some sort of response, but there was nothing. “So I wanna ask you to come home,” Ryan said. “I want you to be with me even if… Fuck, Joshy, I just want you here. It’s beyond needing you. You can need alcohol and resent it, but I need you and want you, alright? That’s how much I fucking love you and how much I need you to come home. You’re, like, awesome alcohol. Fuck. I’m losing my ability to speak.”

 _“He just left the room, Ryan,”_ Tyler told him sadly. _“I… For what it’s worth, you really seemed to get through to him. He started to cry to little. I’m not worried about him, honestly, I think he’s gonna come to his senses eventually on his own. I’m just worried that that other factors could come in and ruin things exteriorly.”_

Ryan sighed and slumped in the chair. “Well… thanks for making him hear me out. Nearly to the end. It means a lot to me.”

_“Good luck, Ryan. Isn’t your last class of the semester tomorrow?”_

Ryan nodded. “A lot has happened in the past, like… Four or so months.”

 _“It’s crazy,”_ Tyler agreed. _“I hope it’s a good day.”_

“Me too,” was all Ryan said. He bid Tyler goodbye and hung up, then went to Josh’s room and fell asleep. It helped him feel a little better.

. . .

Ryan walked to his car from the Psych building with heavy steps. He’d come to more flowers on his desk, and they honestly had cheered him up a little, until he’d gotten word that some complaining parent had actually made enough noise to force the board to give one of Ryan’s most disrespectful students a passing grade (even though the girl hadn’t attended a single class and hadn’t got above a zero on a single test) for the class. That had completely destroyed Ryan’s mood, especially when the girl had shown up for her final (and this was honestly the first time Ryan had seen her face since the first class of the semester) and smugly handed in a completely blank test.

Ryan had wanted to slap her in the fucking face.

He trudged through the parking lot with a heavy sigh and missed the Chicago weather. Winter never felt like winter in LA and he hated the lack of seasonal change on the coast, even though he preferred the lack of seasons during spring and winter. He missed snow and sludge and rain and cold air and he kinda just missed Chicago.

It was the city of his first time with Brendon and he missed it for that reason, too. 

He pulled out his car keys, nearly dropping them in the darkness of the night, and squinted as he tried to distinguish which was the unlock button. Then he heard a click behind him. It was unfamiliar and almost hollow sounding, something he dimly recognize from television.

He turned around and his eyes widened as he stared down the barrel of a random fucking gun.

“G-gimme your keys!” the man behind the gun shouted. His grip on the gun was shaking and he was mumbling to himself at a fevered pace, and Ryan assumed the man was either nervous as fuck or tweaking so fucking hard. Ryan was still more focused on the gun in his face and the question of whether or not it was actually loaded. Hell, it might not even be real.

“I said gimme your keys!” the guy shouted. 

“You’re fucking with me, right?” Ryan asked, because this was a prank. “Is Jon around? Is he the one putting you up to this? Are you a friend of his or just someone he paid? This is fucking stupid.”

“Your keys!” the man shrieked, shaking harder. “And your wallet, t-t-too!”

“This is the dumbest joke ever,” Ryan said. This was definitely a prank. He even recognized this man from around campus. He was usually wearing some sort of suit, and god dammit, Jon. At least change the script a little. “Jon! Jon, get out here!”

The man started to laugh, and Ryan paused, before laughing a little too. He knew he’d been right, especially when the man lowered the gun to his side and shrugged a little still laughing. “Jon’s such an asshole, isn’t he?” Ryan asked, grinning.

The gun was raised again before he could react and the sound of it going off was louder than Ryan could have ever imagined it to be. He wasn’t even in pain, which was stupid, because when he looked down, he saw that he had a fucking hole in the sleeve of his arm and blood, blood fucking everywhere, dear fucking god, _that was a real fucking gun._

Ryan stumbled back in fear, one hundred percent on board with this getting mugged bullshit now, but the man was running away before Ryan could successfully throw his wallet and keys onto the floor in surrender. He then realized he was alone in a parking lot at night, bleeding and shaking, and he hadn’t even tried to call for help.

“Are you okay?”

Ryan looked up as a random fucking woman ran up to him. He flinched away, half expecting another gun, but she stopped and held her hands up to show she had nothing to hurt him with.

“I-I’ve been shot,” Ryan choked out. 

“Oh my god,” she said, a hand coming up to cover her mouth when she saw the gunshot wound. “Stay still, put pressure on it and stay still! I’ll call an ambulance.”

Ryan just nodded and sat on the ground and tried not to stress out over how much this was going to cost.

Fuck his life.

. . .

“I can’t drive home like this, can I?” Ryan asked from the gurney where he was being sewn up by a disgruntled and extremely exhausted looking nurse.

“We’ve called the first number on your emergency contact list,” the nurse replied. “He was freaked out, but seemed okay enough to drive. He’ll be here soon to pick you up.”

Ryan assumed it was Mikey. He was a little surprised Mikey was well enough to drive after hearing that Ryan had been fucking shot. It was weirdly appropriate. Out of a list of every single shitty and traumatic thing that could happen to someone, Ryan was definitely ticking off quite a few boxes. His list of personal tragedies was pretty impressive. 

“I’m gonna get something awesome for pain, right?” Ryan asked. “Because I was just shot and the holidays are coming up and shit has been going down in my life fucking hardcore. I would appreciate something to help the pain of, at least, the bullet wound.”

The nurse arched a brow up at Ryan with a dry expression. “You’ll get some painkillers. Enough for a week. That’s it.”

“Good enough for me,” Ryan said right as the doors to the emergency room burst open and someone started shouting about how this person couldn’t be back here. Ryan couldn’t see. He was surrounded by curtains that gave him a semblance of privacy. Then someone threw open the curtains and Ryan would’ve been shocked that it was Josh staring before him if getting shot hadn’t already maxed out his shock meters for the next fucking lifetime.

“Joshy,” Ryan murmured. 

Josh looked sick to his fucking stomach and Ryan felt so bad for him. He hadn’t meant for the hospital to call Josh. He knew that the stress of seeing Ryan in the hospital wouldn’t do anything for their current emotional predicament. 

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing Ryan said to him. “I didn’t know they would call you.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Josh demanded almost shrilly.

Ryan faltered. “I… Don’t know what you mean.”

“All that’s fucking left is for you to get raped and murdered!” Josh shouted, in absolutely hysterics. A few nurses came forward and tried to make him leave, but Ryan held a hand out.

“Let him stay!” he insisted, grabbed the bottom of Josh’s shirt and hold him on tight. He looked to the nurse that had stopped dressing the wound with a pleading expression. “Please? He’s the only person that knows I’m here, and he’s pretty flighty these days.” He met Josh’s eyes pointedly when he said that. “I’m scared that if they force him out now, he’ll leave and I won’t get home for hours.”

The nurse eyed Josh warily, before nodding with reluctance. “Make him calm down. If he screams like that again, he’s out.”

“Joshy,” Ryan spoke gently. “Chill the fuck out.”

Josh looked offended, but only for a second. After that he just looked tired. He ended up sitting down on the floor, despite the protests the nurse gave about the floor being unsanitary from all the blood of the emergencies of the day, and watching Ryan with a haggard expression. “What am I gonna do if you die?” Josh asked brokenly.

“If you move out, you won’t even notice,” Ryan said.

Josh actually flinched. “… What else should I do?”

“Not move out.” Ryan tried to shrug, but it aggravated the hole in his arm and he hissed in pain. “Fuck, fuck, this is gonna hurt for days, isn’t it? You should give me something stronger than whatever you’re already giving me.”

“You don’t know what I’m giving you,” the nurse replied dryly. 

“I know that you can always give me something stronger,” Ryan shot back.

The nurse didn’t say anything. Ryan took that as a good sign. 

“I’ll take you home when they’re done,” Josh mumbled, head ducked in what was probably something like shame. “I just… “

Ryan nodded when Josh trailed off. He wasn’t sure he knew what Josh was saying, but he was trying his best to understand. He would always try to understand. “Thanks for coming, Joshy. You didn’t have to.”

Josh shook his head. “Yes I did.”

Ryan didn’t say anything as the stitches started.

. . .

In the car, Josh didn’t say a word until he was in the driveway. It was four in the morning and Ryan knew his family had to be worried sick. Ryan hadn’t been able to call or shoot them a message because his phone had died at the hospital while he’d been being stitched up. God, he hoped they hadn’t gone out looking for him. 

He was struggling to open the car door with his left hand when Josh stopped him with a gentle touch to Ryan’s knee.

“When I heard you’d been shot, I’d thought the worst,” Josh said. “I’d honestly thought I was being called by the police or some morgue telling me to come and identify the body.” Ryan stalled in his seat and turned to face Josh a little more, wanting to show that he was listening. Josh’s eyes were brimming with tears. “For a few moments, Ryan, I-I’d lost you. You were dead. Gone. A-and I knew, in those moments, that I’d lost my best friend. And that I had made the biggest mistake of my life by letting you die alone.”

Ryan didn’t know what to say. He watched Josh struggle with his emotions and remained patient. 

“Like, what would I do?” Josh asked, probably rhetorically. “If you were dead and I was left? You’d have a funeral and everything. Everyone would cry, even Frank. Did you know that I have never, ever seen Frank cry? But I know he would cry for you. And Brendon would have felt you die in his head, I know he would have, and I… I wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone. I know what it feels like and I never, ever want anyone to experience it, even Brendon. And I don’t want Frank to cry at your funeral and I don’t want them to lower you into the dirt. You don’t belong in the ground, Ryan. You don’t belong down there.”

Josh hit the steering wheel and really started to cry.   
“Fuck, Ryan,” Josh whimpered. “C-can I come home?”

“Of course,” Ryan said.

“I’m sorry for trying to move out,” Josh continued. “I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have ran away. I love you, Ryan, and I know you love me too, even if it’s not in that way. I was stupid to try and leave you. I’d thought being away would help the feelings die, but that’s dumb. I wanna come home.”

“Come home,” Ryan replied, smiling tentatively. “Help me handle the fall out with Gerard and shit. God, they must be freaking out more than you are.”

“Do they not know?”

Ryan shook his head. “My phone died.”

“Oh fuck,” Josh groaned. “Fuck. We’re all gonna sleep in the same bed tonight, huh? All six of us. We can’t fit in any of those fucking beds but Gerard still insists it’s possible and that we have to and it’s so fucking gay, god dammit. I’m gonna be sweating all night. I better not wake up with Ray’s boner on my leg again. He’s a god damn horse. We’re gonna be sleeping in the same fucking bed tonight, aren’t we?”

Ryan smiled wider. “Hopefully.”

“God, how could I ever try to leave this?” Josh sighed.

Ryan shrugged. “I don’t know, but you’re a fucking asshole. Wanna know how you can make it up to me?”

“Anything you want.”

“Help me open this fucking door, christ.”

Ryan went inside and saw that everyone was crying and, for a moment, he felt like everything was going to be okay.


	12. Swim With the Surface Beneath You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chugga chug chug amiright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so, due to technical difficulties that are a total fucking bitch, me and my beta are having issues with stuff. it shouldn't slow anything down, just know that added typos and stuff may be my fault entirely.
> 
> betad by: **cemetarydrivethru** and **halseyschemicalromance**
> 
> shout out to alex for being a dummy and sitting next to me jesus christ

Everything wasn't okay.

Josh couldn’t touch Ryan when they passed in the hallways. Ryan’s bullet wound hurt constantly. Frank and Gerard were growing increasingly stressed to the point where Ryan didn’t see Gerard eat and Mikey was so keyed up about the surgery that he’d have panic attacks in the kitchen.

And it had only been a day.

Ryan was sitting with Mikey on the tiled floor, rubbing his back as Mikey furtively brushed away his panicked tears. He knew that Mikey had wanted this surgery for years, but it wasn’t surprising him that Mikey was also terrified of everything that could go wrong. 

“What if he forgets me?” Mikey asked in soft horror. “What if something goes wrong and he, like, ends up in a coma? What if he dies, Ryan? Fuck, it’s his brain. I-I know this is important and definitely necessary, but…” Mikey shuddered and Ryan pulled him into his side a little tighter. “Fuck, I don’t want to lose him like this. An accident with a scalpel could be the end of him and me and it’s so stupid! Cancer couldn’t kill him, but the person who is supposed to be saving him very well could! God, fuck, what if this is it? What if this is the end?”

“Mikey, you legitimately can’t think about that,” Ryan told him. “You can’t. Ray needs you to be strong for him. Whatever fear you’re feeling about the surgery is a thousand times worse for Ray because he’s going to be the one on the table and you can’t hold his hand the whole time. I’m not trying to tell you that your feelings don’t matter, but we really have to look out for Ray right now. Can you do that for me? I think if you can just focus on taking care of him, you can easily stomp down what’s bothering you. There is legitimately no way for me or anyone to comfort you or Ray during this. We just have to get you guys to the date of the surgery and see what happens.”

Mikey whimpered and pressed the butt of his palms into his eyes, and Ryan meant that he really pressed. He knew Mikey had to be seeing those monochromatic kaleidoscopes with how hard he was pushing into the sockets. Ryan gently pulled Mikey’s hands from his face and wrung their fingers together to keep him from doing anything that could do some permanent damage. “We’re gonna be okay,” Ryan promised.

“Okay?” Mikey repeated, sounding offended. “Ryan, you were fucking shot! Ray’s surgery is in a few hours and I’ve spent so much of my life in the hospital for the people I love that it makes me hate the smell of disinfectant and sanitation gloves! I’m scared one of you will going into an emergency room and never come out again.” Mikey looked to Ryan’s bandaged arm and shook his head. “You were fucking shot,” he repeated in a broken whisper.

“We should take bets on how long it’ll take for me to get in a car accident,” Ryan tried to joke, but the joke fell flat and Mikey looked to Ryan in horror. 

“Don’t fucking joke about that,” Mikey said in dead seriousness. “Do not fucking joke about that, do you hear me? That’s not fucking okay to talk about like it’s nothing. You, you could’ve died, Ryan. You could’ve fucking died.”

“I know,” Ryan sighed. “I am sorry. I just, I was trying to make a joke. It wasn’t funny and I should’ve been more tactful. I-I know you guys were worried to death that night and I’m sorry to have put you all through that. I-it was kinda out of my control, but I definitely shouldn’t be making jokes about that kind of shit right now.”

“Damn fucking right,” Mikey mumbled. 

Ryan sighed and rubbed Mikey’s back again. “As I said— just focus on something else. Focus on getting Ray through this. For me, it helps to help other. That’s how I start to feel better. When I’m taking the focus off myself and reaching out to other.”

“We’re not all fucking saints,” Mikey huffed. “… But I’ll try.”

Ryan nodded and pat his shoulder. “It’ll be okay in the end. It has to be. It really fucking has to be.”

. . .

They got Ray into surgery a few hours after noon. Going through all of the tests had taken another hour, all the blood tests and x-rays and the ECG and left Mikey and Ray both looking frazzled. Josh and Tyler had opted to stay behind at the house because…

Ryan didn’t actually know why.

Mikey, Frank, Gerard, and Ryan had all been allowed to stay with Ray until Ray went into the operating theatre, but the second the doctors had pulled Ray away was the second Mikey had started shaking like a leaf. 

“He’s gonna come back bald,” was all Frank had said after Ray had been wheeled out of the room on his gurney. Gerard had lightly smacked Frank’s arm, but Mikey had smiled shakily. “I’m gonna miss his majestic mane,” Frank had continued after noticing that the joke had helped the latter.

The surgery was only supposed to take three to five hours, so when they were well into hour six, going on seven, Mikey had really started to freak out. 

He started pacing the waiting room, pulling at his hair and muttering to himself and testing his wedding band around and around his finger. Ryan had ended up standing halfway through the seventh hour and held Mikey by the arm to stop him from moving.

“It’s been hours,” Mikey blurted out, looking to Ryan like he had all the answers. “It’s been hours, Ryan, he, he’s dead. He has to be dead.” 

“If he were dying, you’d be asleep and spending his last moments with him,” Ryan told Mikey softly. “Everything’s okay. Surgeries don’t always go according to plan, but these men and women are professionals. They know what they're doing. They’re literal geniuses, alright? It’ll be okay. They can do fucking anything when it comes to the human body. I mean, people accuse surgeons of being assholes that try to play god. If anyone can save Ray, it’s these guys.”

“Then where is he?” Mikey asked in a small voice. Ryan didn’t have an answer for him.

They went into the eighth hour without a word. A nurse came out with blood all over the front of her apron and an exhausted expression. But when she called the last name “Way” and everyone stood up, she managed to give them a genuine smile and Mikey broke down crying, because that gesture said more than words ever could.

“We have successfully removed the tumor completely,” the nurse told them. “Dr. Fisk, the operator, should be out soon to give you an complete update on Mr. Way’s status. The surgery was a complete success.”

“Did you shave his head?” Frank asked, swallowing hard like he was trying to keep himself from crying with Mikey. Ryan and Gerard were both crying, so Frank was definitely close to giving in. “You guys shaved his head, didn’t you?”

The nurse looked very confused at the question.

Frank giggled, hysterical and pitched, and nudged Mikey. “They shaved his head.”

Another hour later and they were allowed to enter Ray’s room.

They’d only shaved the back of Ray’s head.

Mikey was asleep, slung half onto the bed, half in his chair, completely dead to the world and basically unconscious. Ryan was sitting with Gerard and Frank against the wall opposite from Ray’s headboard, all three of them just watching the two men rest. 

“A year of this shit,” Frank murmured. “Nearly two. It’s finally okay again.” Frank sighed and rested his head on Gerard’s shoulder, his legs splayed out in front of him, one knee of Gerard’s thigh while Ryan had a hand crushed between Gerard’s back and the wall. It was pleasantly warm. “We can finally rest easy.”

“We can bring in a child that deserves a home,” Gerard agreed. “Raise the kid together. All of us. Like it should be done.”

“You believe in communal raising of the young?” Ryan asked curiously. He knew Gerard had brushed on this topic before. Ryan was curious for more. It was very rare to find someone who was comfortable with the idea of more than one or two people raising their child since people were so fucking insane and controlling these days.

“I think that one person doesn’t have all the answers a kid needs,” Gerard said. “I think it’s better to be raised by four or so people who love the child while having those two main parents. Kinda like how sometimes an uncle can be a parental figure on top of the birth parents? Uncles Mikey, Ray, and godfather Ryan.” Ryan smiled softly at the title. “Godfather” meant more to him than “doctor.”

“We’re gonna raise our kid together,” Gerard repeated. “And it’s gonna be the most beautiful kid in the world with the most beautiful mind. Being raised with Ryan’s intelligence, Frank’s will, Mikey’s calmness, Ray’s kindness, and my, uh…”

“Creativity,” Frank added. “And genius. You’ve got a ton of genius, Gee.” Frank nuzzled into Gerard’s neck. “This kid’s gonna be the craziest thing the world has ever seen.”

“We’re gonna be the greatest family ever,” Gerard breathed reverently to Ray and Mikey on the bed. “This is the beginning of the best thing to ever happen to us. Removing a tumor and bringing in a child.”

Ryan sighed and just hoped he’d be able to exist in that same plane of happiness that Gerard and Frank were inhabiting soon.

. . .

Ryan stared at his phone after he and Frank had gone home for the night. They weren’t allowed to have so many people in the hospital room so Gerard had stayed with Mikey just in case. Frank had gone right to bed and Ryan had stared at his phone, wondering if he should call Brendon and tell him the good news. Pete and Patrick were already coming over for dinner the next day to celebrate. But Brendon…

Ryan picked up his phone and sent Brendon a text.

 _‘the tumor is gone,’_ it read. He wasn’t sure if Brendon was going to respond or not, but he would be surprised either way, no matter what.

He was definitely shocked when his phone started to ring, flashing Brendon’s name. He hesitated, not knowing if he wanted to answer or not. He glanced to Frank who was asleep on the couch next to him and wondered if it was a good idea to even answer. He’d invited this, yes, but he had kinda bet on not getting any sort of response.

Ryan sighed and thought of Josh and Tyler across the lawn. He knew he could probably ask them for advice. 

But fuck, Ryan didn’t have the time for that and Brendon would think he was being ignored. 

Ryan picked up before he could second guess himself again. “H-hey,” he stammered. “Sorry, uh, I was…” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was debating internally.”

 _“About answering?”_ Brendon chuckled softly. _“How’d you like your flowers? Ray told me sunflowers would be best, and I added the lavender because purple and yellow look good together, right? I didn’t get to see the bouquet in person, just had is sent to you. How’d you like it?”_

Ryan bit his lip, deciding to tell the truth. “I actually really liked them,” he said. “And, uhm. I’m beginning to notice that you really do seem sorry for w-what happened.”

 _“I am,”_ Brendon agreed. _“I’m so very sorry. You didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve anything that I’ve done to you. With growing up and being a shitty kid and then this…”_ Brendon sighed. _“I’m pretty awful to you.”_

“Not just you, if that helps,” Ryan told him. “I’m pretty unlucky. Gonna have to let my arm heal and that’s gonna take weeks.”

Brendon faltered. _“Your… your arm?”_

Ryan hesitated. “Shit, do you not know? Did Pete not tell you? Wait, fuck, I-I never told Pete.”

 _“What happened, Ryan?”_ Brendon asked with worry obvious in his tone.

“I just, I got mugged last night,” Ryan sighed. “It was pretty bad, I guess. Had to go to the hospital, but I didn’t actually lose anything. I just, uh, I got hurt a little. That’s all. I’m fine, really.” He had missed talking with Brendon about things. It had always helped him feel better in a way that talking to anyone else had not worked. He felt a little bad for feeling that way, but he knew it was the same for Gerard to Frank, Mikey to Ray, Pete to Patrick— it was just the way of soulmates.

 _“Ryan,”_ Brendon whimpered. Ryan could almost picture Brendon’s lower lip trembling. _“Oh god, a-are you okay? Were you scared? Fuck, Ryan, I’m so happy you got away. Are you hurt? Why’d you go to the hospital?”_

“It was just an accident, baby,” Ryan told him. He didn’t even mean to use the pet name. “I’m okay now. I got checked out and everything. Why don’t we talk about something else?”

 _“Talk about…”_ Brendon sniffled. _“I-I’m so worried that you’re hurt.”_

“I’m okay, I promise,” Ryan said softly. “I contacted you to tell you about Ray. Don’t you want to hear about that? Don’t you wanna hear about how he’s gonna be okay? Because he’s gonna be okay, Brendon. They got the tumor out and everything.”

 _“That’s amazing,”_ Brendon said. _“That is, really. God, I, I’m so happy. I’m so glad he’s okay. Is Mikey happy? And Gerard and Frank? It’s all gonna be okay again, right? For them.”_

Ryan smiled and nodded. “It’s gonna be okay.” He felt silly to be repeating that phrase over and over, but it was a truth he needed to remember. “Ray’s resting in the hospital right now and Mikey and Gee are with him. Frank and I are just getting some rest before we bring them in food tomorrow.”

 _“That’s awesome,”_ Brendon giggled. _“Fuck. Fuck! That’s awesome!”_

“It is awesome,” Ryan agreed with a grin. “It’s really, like… I mean, I can’t call it a miracle because I know the doctors worked their fucking asses in the operating room to save him, I just feel really tempted to call it that anyways. We never, ever expected Ray to actually agree to the surgery, and I always kinda told myself it might not work so I wouldn’t get my hopes up. But fucking look at this shit! Ray’s okay, a-and Frank and Gerard are gonna adopt.”

 _“They’re gonna adopt?!”_ Brendon shrieked into the phone. Ryan winced a little, but smiled regardless of the ringing in his ears. _“Oh my god, baby Ways! All the baby Ways! I’m so excited, I-I wanna see the…”_

Ryan listened a little more intently as Brendon trailed off.

Brendon started to sniffle again. _“I’m not allowed to see them, am I?”_

Ryan hesitated. “… It isn’t up to me.”

_“And if it was?”_

“I wouldn’t know. I-I know you want me to say yes, Brendon, but I’m not sure I trust you yet. At all, really, and I don’t know if I will. But I’m with you and I’m willing to try. Just, meeting the family is definitely a little further into the trust process, you know? Even if you already know them pretty well.”

 _“Will you go on a date with me?”_ Brendon asked suddenly. 

Ryan would’ve tripped over himself if he were standing. “What?”

 _“A date,”_ Brendon repeated. _“I wanna date you. And be nice to you and buy you things and treat you like a boyfriend and stuff. Cause, like, I-I know you didn’t get much of that when you first met me. I know you went through hell for years for me and from me and I think I’d like to do this right for you. I’d like us to try and do this the right way, without all the scariness and sadness and pain. Please?”_

Ryan really wanted to wake up Frank and ask him for advice. Because the little voice in his head that was shouting “Do it! Date him!” was definitely biased. 

_“You can let me know later,”_ Brendon said. _“I know it’s a pretty weird thing to ask after everything. I just know that I’ve missed a lot while on tour and I think that really messed up our relationship along with what I did, so I’d like to just date you and we can catch up and be legitimate boyfriends and stuff. A-and if in the end you find you can’t trust me… We, w-we can break up.”_

God, that sounded like the worst fucking reality possible. “I, I’ll get back to you on the date thing,” Ryan said, tugging at a strand of his hair. “I just, I’m pretty overloaded with things right now. I’ve got Josh and Ray’s recovery and this bullet wound and shit.”

 _“Bullet wound?!”_ Brendon nearly screamed. Ryan winced again and tried not to think about how badly he’d fucked up with that slip.

“I’m totally okay,” he said for what felt like the millionth time. “It was just my arm.”

_“Oh my god, you got shot?!”_

“You totally did get shot,” Frank mumbled, half asleep beside Ryan. “Who’s screaming?”

“Gotta go,” Ryan said quickly before ending the call and clearing his throat. “No one. Pete. Uh.”

Frank looked to Ryan with a sleepily skeptical expression. “Who was screaming?” Frank repeated, looking a little more awake by the second. He sat up and stretched. “I’m not gonna be mad.”

Ryan worried his lower lip for a second. “… Brendon asked me out on a date.”

Frank dropped his head back and groaned loudly in frustration. “That little fucker just won’t give up, will he? What a little fuck. God damn.” Frank sighed. “What’re you gonna do?”

Ryan shrugged and tried to appear nonchalant and confident in his decision. “Say yes?”

Frank groaned again, louder.

“He sounds like he’s a lot better, Frankie, and he’s being nice and apologizing and shit and really trying to fix things. He’s actually trying. That means a lot to me, Frankie, means a hell of a lot more than you probably understand. I’ve got this chance of getting him back.”

“No, no, see, he gets you back,” Frank said. “He gets you back. He was the one who did this, so he was the one who had to earn you back. So he gets you back.”

Ryan smiled a bit and shrugged. “Either way, we’re happy. That’s what I want.”

Frank sighed. “Okay, well, just… don’t do anything stupid. And don’t put yourself in any harm’s way.”

“So I can go on the date?”

“I’m not your dad,” Frank snorted. “Do whatever the fuck you want.”

“I’m going on the date,” Ryan said before sending Brendon a text to let him know.

. . .

Pete and Patrick came over for dinner with a giant cake that read, “fuck cancer,” and tons of icing piled on top because Ray secretly loved sweets when he was recovering from things. They’d all gone to the hospital for an hour to visit, just enough time for Ray to get fucking exhausted after having just woken up. But Ray had put up a valiant effort with smiling and accepting statements of relief and gratitude for Ray’s recovery. 

Then they’d gone home, thought just Ryan, Josh, Tyler, Pete, and Patrick. Frank and stayed behind with the Ways because he missed his husband and promised to be home before midnight. Josh was still avoiding Ryan’s touch, but the’d had a meager conversation about how clingy Mikey was being. 

At the house, Ryan had pulled off his jacket and winced and Tyler and Josh had gone to Ryan’s aid in getting the clothes off. Pete had asked questions, Ryan had answered a little nervously, and while Pete had freaked out, Patrick had just nodded.

“I figured you’ve dealt with enough people shrieking over getting shot,” Patrick explained later. “You’re okay and you survived. That’s kinda what matters.”

Ryan had smeared icing across Patrick’s face in tired gratitude and they all fell asleep on the couch watching the original Godzilla movies, Ryan’s face squished into Pete’s shoulder and Josh’s head resting on Ryan’s calve.

. . .

Ray was in the hospital for another week. When he’d initially woken up, he couldn’t speak very well and had a lot of trouble forming consonant sounds, but he could walk a little and that was enough for Mikey. The speech problem was getting a little better, and Ray only had a small stutter by the time they’d been able to take him home. He was exhausted, of course, he pretty much only slept and ate and let Mikey talk to him about thousands of things that didn’t really matter but Ray liked hearing anyways. Everyone else traded out on bringing real food to the hospital, though Gerard mostly stayed with his brother. Frank complained about not seeing his husband often enough to be so fucking annoying, but Ryan thought it was sweet. The Way brothers were always a sort of relationship role model for Ryan.

Ryan had that date lined up for another day because he was mostly concerned with taking care of everything at home so Gerard wouldn’t have to worry about the house. Christmas was in three days and Ryan spent most hours of the day decorating. He was pretty bad at it. Like, horrible. Brendon was so much better at decorating than Ryan. Pete came over and helped him lay the garland, and Tyler and Josh came along to help Ryan pick out a tree. Even after years of being with a family that loved him, Ryan still didn’t understand Christmas completely. He knew the colors and the traditions, but he never really felt the wonder as a kid, so he doesn’t exactly feel it now. 

Ryan sighed as he hung ornaments on the tree. Nothing was supposed to happen today, so he was shocked when the front door suddenly opened and Mikey was pushing Ray in Ray’s wheelchair inside, chatting excitedly about the outdoor decorations of the lights. 

“Looks amazing, Ryan,” Gerard said with a smile, carrying in the bags full of clothes that had been brought to Gerard and Mikey during their hospital stay. “All by yourself?”

Ryan just shook his head dumbly. The main house had been practically empty for a week, empty and quiet and cold. Now Frank was trying to jump over the back of the sofa and Mikey wouldn't shut the fuck up. Josh and Tyler crossed the lawn and started to try to make dinner and everything felt pretty okay. They got Ray on the couch and Mikey fed Ray soup with airplane noises that earned him a few grouchy yet fond looks. There was the smell of lasagna wafting in the house and Ryan sat back to let Frank and Gerard finished decorating the tree. 

“N-none of you bought any presents this year,” Ray mumbled, watching with Ryan. 

“I’ll go shopping tomorrow,” Ryan told him. “I’ll get Joshy and Tyler to come along. You guys need to start Christmas dinner. I’m sure you’ll be coaching from the sidelines?”

Ray nodded with a sleepy, hum, eyes falling closed. His body dropped to the side and his head rested on Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan could just barely see the shaved patch of skin atop Ray’s head from his peripherals and shuddered. They’d been that close to losing Ray. Then he looked back up and saw Frank was sitting on Mikey’s shoulders to get the star atop the tree. Fucking idiots.

“They’re gonna die up there,” Ryan stated. Ray chuckled softly in his sleepy stupor. “I mean it. We make it through all this shit only to suffer death at the hands of christmas lights and gravity. It’s poetically idiotic.”

“Such a p-p-pessimist,” Ray hummed. “You’d think you d-didn’t have… any…”

Ryan looked down when Ray trailed off and smiled a little in relief when he saw Ray had fallen asleep. He watched for a little bit, wanting to pretend that Ray’s face had more color and size and he knew that it would work, soon. Ray would look like his old self again, though he would arguably never gain back a few little skills, maybe some motor functions, but they were a small sacrifice to having Ray alive and happy. Then one day, they’d wake up and see Ray cooking in the kitchen and know how lucky they were.

He looked up and saw everyone else was watching Ray sleep like they couldn’t believe he was there. Ryan smiled a bit, because he could definitely relate to that. He still couldn’t believe it, and Ray was fucking sleeping on him.

“Let’s get him to bed,” Mikey said softly, smiling. “I need my husband to get some rest.”

Ryan nodded. “Tomorrow, I’m gonna go shopping for presents. And… I’m gonna buy a new bed.”

Frank’s brow shot sky high. “Fucking seriously?” Ryan just nodded. “That’s impressive. I mean, I’d like to come along. I don’t have to supervise the bar right now. Let me come along and I’ll definitely help you get something pretty different, yeah? So you don’t have to worry about anything like getting something that reminds you of things you wouldn’t like.”

Ryan shrugged. “It’s been a week or two or so. I’m over it.”

Mikey guffawed and Gerard sighed, shaking his head. 

“It’s the soulmate thing,” Ryan sighed. “It just… It didn’t take long for my heart to hurt for him so completely and I don’t want to drag this out. Brendon’s really fucking sorry, guys, and I can see it on his face, hear it in his voice. I’m gonna let him apologize and try and fix things like he wants to do. Because, maybe, I want him to fix things too.”

“You’re gonna get your heart broken again,” Mikey said. “Just you fucking wait.”

“Your faith in the good of the world is astounding,” Ryan responded dryly. 

“Fuck off,” Mikey huffed. “Fuck. I’m gonna call Pete. See what he thinks about Brendon. Where’s he staying?”

“He’s staying with his bassist, Dallon,” Ryan said. “Dallon’s cool.”

Mikey nodded. “I’m calling Pete and I’m gonna ask him what he thinks about this. When’s the date?”

“Tomorrow,” Ryan hummed.

“Fuck you, Ryan, we’re having a conference call with Pete and it’s gonna be so fucking professional and we’re gonna really delve into what you should be doing in this moment. Pete deserves to have his opinion thrown in here because he helped you out a lot too. He was in charge of Brendon for a long time. You should wait and see what he has to say considering he’s more familiar with the most recent Brendon in existence. He has the best, sort of like, viewpoint. Thingy.” Mikey huffed. “He’s the one to ask. We’re asking him.”

Ryan shrugged. “Whatever will help you feel better. I’m still doing it.”

Mikey let out this garbled noise of frustration and threw his arms in the air while Gerard just looked worried. “Don’t want you getting hurt again, Ry,” Gerard said.

Ryan shrugged. “It’s gonna happen no matter what. I’d just like to say I tried.”

Gerard nodded. “Let’s get Ray to bed.”

. . .

“Do it,” Pete said. “Just, just do it. I’ve never seen Brendon regret anything before, not even the time he broke his longboard in half on my fucking car. He was sorry, but he was smiling as he walked away, not maliciously, just, he was happy to have the memory. He’s obsessed with having memories that mean something new to him, but Ryan? This is a memory that he doesn’t want. Hurting you is a memory he doesn’t want. And he’s never experienced that before. He’s never regretted.”

Ryan looked smugly to Mikey. “See? I told you. Brendon really is fucking sorry.”

“He’s so sorry,” Pete sighed. “Fucking found out he was just parading girls around because he thought he had a role to fill. It’s awful, Ryan. All he does these days is think about what he’s got to do to make you forgive him. He’s got a fucking notebook full of ideas. Asked me to buy him some sort of whiteboard so he could plot things out. It… It’s kinda cute, in a sad way.”

“I’m gonna date him,” Ryan said, actually a little excited. “I’ve never dated anyone. Never had anyone want to date me, except, uh…” He didn’t say Josh’s name. “I mean, I’ve always wanted to have a sort of normalcy to my relationship with Brendon and this is the chance that I have. I’m so excited, guys, so fucking excited. I’m gonna date the fuck out of him.”

“Please remember that this is him earning back your trust,” Mikey said. “And don’t forget that he got a girl pregnant.”

Ryan’s face fell. He had literally forgotten. “Oh…”

“God, Ryan, did you not remember?” Mikey sighed. “This is what I’m worried about. What we’re worried about.That you’re gonna get so wrapped up in Brendon being the one to chase you for once that you’re gonna ignore everything he’s done and might do in favor of feeling desired and loved for the first time in what has to be a year, right? Or more.”

Ryan just shrugged. “I wanna be happy and this is my chance. I’m gonna take it. I’m not gonna let fear get in the way of what I can have again.”

“Good luck, Ryan,” Pete said softly.

. . .

Ryan was dressed as nicely as he could dress while still doing his best to appear casual. Mikey had really helped him out, though it had been a begrudging favor that had a lot of heavy conversation saddled in with it. Ryan had kinda ignored everything, except his subconscious had different plans and filed away literally every word Mikey had said. Even that stupid comment about Ryan being as slow as the dinosaurs.

Still, Ryan knew he had to look good. His reflection was pleasing and he didn’t look too thin and his curly hair looked fucking adorable in this bandana. The bandana had been Ryan’s choice. Mikey had put up a fight until he’d seen it on Ryan’s head and had promptly shut up, reassuring Ryan in his idea that he looked fucking adorable. It wasn’t like Ryan was trying to look good for Brendon. He just wanted to not have to worry about his appearance. If Ryan was confident in how he looked, then he could be fairly comfortable in the situation.

Ryan sighed at his mirror, then jumped when his phone buzzed. He knew it was Brendon alerting him to his presence at the door. Brendon hadn’t wanted to knock because he didn’t want to invite another fight. Ryan couldn’t blame him.

He darted downstairs and across the lawn, going out the back gate instead of going through the house. Brendon was waiting by the door, looking nervous, tapping his foot and worrying his lower lip in his mouth. He had a single sunflower clutched in his hand and Ryan found himself smiling a little. He quickly tapered down the smile and approached Brendon with a neutral expression, clearing his throat.

Brendon instantly perked up and looked to Ryan with bright eyes. “Ry! I’m gonna take you on a date! I’m gonna drive and pay and everything, and—” Brendon cut himself off, quickly holding out the single flower. “This is for you! Next date, I’m getting you daisies.”

Ryan nodded and took the sunflower. He had to remind himself to keep himself detached. Brendon had cheated on him. Brendon had gotten a girl pregnant. Regardless of how much Ryan’s soul screamed for it’s counterpart, Ryan couldn’t just dive headlong into facing in love again. He couldn’t to forgive yet. He owed it to himself to stave off a little bit longer. And yet, by acknowledging how he was going to hold back was also acknowledging that he was inevitably going to give in. Ryan didn’t want to upset his friends, but why the fuck did the opinion of his friends matter when it came to this? Ryan deserved to be happy, and it didn’t matter who his friends thought he should be with with. Ryan was making decisions for himself now.

“Thank you,” Ryan said as he took the flower. “Where are we going?”

Brendon gasped and went up on his toes, grinning wide, obviously excited. “Only the best place ever!”

“Where?”

Brendon shook his head. “It’s a surprise. You’re gonna love it! I ate there all the time on tour, it was my favorite place! You’re gonna love it, Ryan, you’re gonna fucking love it. C’mon, I’m driving!” Brendon darted to his car and ran to the driver’s side, then thought twice and ran back to the passenger side to open the door for Ryan. Ryan chuckled and slid inside and then Brendon got into the driver’s seat. “Pete taught me to drive, so of course I’m awesome at it,” Brendon said confidently. “Zack offered, but Pete said you would really only be happy if he or Patrick did it, and Patrick was away with that family thing.”

Ryan’s brain stuttered a little over that. Patrick still hadn’t told Pete the truth about his leg. Fuck, Ryan hoped that never, ever came up in unknowing company. Brendon drove through the city, and Ryan was pretty sure he was choosing the most convoluted route so Ryan couldn’t figure out where they were going. What a sneaky little fucker.

Ryan sat back patiently and looked out the window. Brendon kept fiddling with the radio, and at one point one of Brendon’s songs came on. Brendon freaked out and quickly changed the channel, watching Ryan like he was scared Ryan was going to be upset.

“I was never mad with you about continuing the band,” he told Brendon. “I was only upset with a few choices. Like the girl, for example. Or how flippant you seemed of Ray’s condition. But I never, ever begrudged you for the music you made or following your dream.”

Brendon bit his lip. “… I have a confession to make.”

Ryan looked to him expectantly. 

“Music was never so much my dream rather than yours,” Brendon said. “I just… I knew you’d never continue the band because of how much you love your family. So I wanted to do it for you. And for myself, a little, because I love music so much, but I kept the band going in your honor, really. I just never stated so and never really asked if you wanted me to do so in the first place…”

Ryan smiled sadly. “I’m glad you got to do what you loved. And I’m happy you were thinking of me.”

“I was, Ryan,” Brendon said sincerely, tearing his eyes away from the road for a few scary seconds to stare into Ryan’s soul and make the moment even more terrifying. “I was always thinking of you. And I always will.”

Ryan swallowed hard and didn’t say a word until they’d gotten to their destination.

. . .

Ryan stared at the neon sign. “A Taco Bell? Really?”

“It has the best food!” Brendon giggled, clapping a little like a kid in a candy store. “And so much of it! And one night, Kenny let me try this thing, this Mary Jane? But it was a lot more potent and we ate so much Taco Bell. I love this place, Ryan, so much, I think you’re gonna like it!’

“I know what Taco Bell is, Brendon.”

Brendon seemed unperturbed by Ryan’s grumpiness. “Do you want beans in your tacos? Black or brown? And you don’t have to get meat, but they’ve got beef and chicken and stuff and it all tastes really good. You can ask for extra cheese, too, and there’s some really good spicy sauce that I don’t know the name of.”

Ryan looked to Brendon and saw the absolute sincerity pasted all over his face. Ryan sighed. “I like the quesadillas, to be honest.”

Brendon gasped in sheer excitement. “Let’s go eat gooey cheese! Yes!”

Ryan got out of the car and squared his shoulders. He was beginning to suspect that Brendon might have some added plan that would redeem this. Because Ryan was wearing a bandana and a vest. You didn’t eat a Taco Bell wearing that.

Brendon ordered himself four fucking burritos and got Ryan two quesadillas, one with onions and one without. Ryan had no idea how Brendon had known that Ryan always had to decided between having onions and not having onions, but he was pretty sure it was the soulmate thing.

Brendon grabbed a booth and got Ryan a large Mt. Dew. He sat down across from Ryan and grinned, kicking his feet and letting his chucks scuff and squeak on the linoleum floor. “I love this place,” Brendon said softly. “I have so many happy memories here. I want you to have happy memories here too!”

Ryan was slammed in the face with a good dose of fucking perspective.

Brendon brought Ryan here because Brendon felt happiness at Taco Bell and assumed that Ryan would find that same happiness. Brendon had an inability to understand that other people felt emotions in different ways and from different things so this was one of the most selfless and sincere things Brendon could do. 

He simply wanted to share the happiness to show Ryan he cared.

Fuck his life, these were the best damn quesadillas Ryan had ever eaten. They tasted like acceptance and love and all that cheesy shit and while Ryan wasn’t ready to forgive Brendon, he was definitely a step closer than he’d been before. Fuck, even a mile closer.

Ryan watched Brendon as they both ate and Brendon talked about a lot of different things, like the television show he was watching when he couldn’t sleep, or the new headphones he’d bought to cheer himself up, and Ryan loved to listen. Brendon had always been able to wrap him up in even the most mundane of stories. It was the way he spoke and gestured and got so single minded when it came to his story. Ryan loved seeing Brendon impassioned. 

It was an hour before Brendon finally stopped to catch a breath and the employees of Taco Bell were watching them a little expectantly. 

“Hey, we should go, huh?” Ryan suggested.

Brendon shook his head. “Not until you’ve told me about you.”

Ryan chuckled. “This place is getting busy. I’m sure someone wants our booth.”

“They’re not you so they’re not important,” Brendon replied with a shrug.

Ryan smiled faintly and shrugged. “Why don’t we go for a walk?”

Brendon’s eyes went comically wide and he gasped. “I forgot! The rest of the date!”

Ryan laughed and shook his head. “We don’t have to finish the date.”

“Yes, yes we do!’ Brendon insisted, standing quickly and grabbing Ryan’s hand. “We’re going to the beach. A very nice and specific part of the beach and I”m, uh, actually gonna need you to close your eyes for part of it, but I promise you can trust me, okay? I-I’d never lead you into danger.”

Ryan smiled a bit. “We really don’t have to.”

“No, we do,” Brendon said firmly as he pulled Ryan from the Taco Bell and to his car. “Totally do, trust me on this, we gotta do some stuff.” He opened the door for Ryan and then got inside on his own and started the car, driving away with tires squealing. Ryan had always hated how Pete drove. 

At a certain point, Brendon asked Ryan to cover his eyes, and Ryan honestly hesitated, but he had the fucking bandana, right? So he pulled it down over his eyes and did as he was told. The drive went much slower now that his senses were gone. He was hyper aware of all the stoplights they encountered and the speed the car went and knew the second the car stopped for good. “Keep the blindfold on,” Brendon said before opening the door and moving around. Ryan sat still before Brendon reached in his door and pulled Ryan out carefully. He started to walk Ryan as slowly as possible. The ground started to give way beneath his feet and Ryan knew he was on the beach. 

Ryan shuddered as he suddenly pictured Brendon walking him into the waves and Ryan willingly following him till water filled his lungs and there was no turning back.

Fuck, Ryan realized he was fucking insane.

“We can stop,” Brendon said, his voice soft and quiet like he didn’t want to disturb the atmosphere of wherever they were. “Take off the bandana, Ryan.”

Ryan reached up and pulled it off. He blinked and looked around, squinting in the dark. Slowly the meager light of the area started to improve his vision and as Ryan took stock of where he was, he found his heart clenching like cardiac arrest.

They were on a section of the beach Brendon had made with sticks shoved into the ground and christmas lights strung across. There were two armchairs that Brendon had to have drug out onto the beach sitting side by side with a little table between them. Brendon suddenly darted back to Ryan’s side (Ryan hadn’t noticed he was gone) with a cooler in his arms. Brendon went to the table and brought out a bottle of wine and a cheese and cracker thing from the grocery store. The moon was in front of them and reflected off the inky black ocean. Without the moon, Ryan wouldn’t have been able to tell when the ocean ended and the eternity of space began. 

“Sit down!” Brendon said excitedly, holding the wine and pulling out red solo cups to pour the drink into.

“You did this?” he asked softly.

Brendon grinned. “Dallon helped me a lot. So did Zack. I asked Kenny, too, but he said you were stupid so I called him stupid back. I know the guy who owns this part of the beach. Isn’t it silly you can own public space?” Brendon put the wine bottle between his legs and started to pull the cork, struggling a little bit eventually succeeding. Ryan sat in one of the chairs and watched Ryan poured the wine into the two cups before offering one to Ryan. Ryan took it and just stared up at Brendon. It was a little hard to see in the darkness, but he knew Brendon was smiling. He looked back out to the darkness and his hands started to shake.

This was amazing. “No one’s ever done something like this for me before,” Ryan said, because he honestly couldn’t remember anyone ever doing something like this. No one had gone such severely out of their way to set something up like this. He looked around in momentary awe, then smiled at Brendon. “Thank you.”

Brendon was watching Ryan with something in his eyes. “… Ryan, I know you don’t feel like you’re worth a lot of anything,” Brendon began softly. “I know you don’t think you’re worth the effort because so many people, including me, have shown you that you’re not. But that doesn’t mean those people and I were right. Your family, the ones showing you that they love you? They’re the ones who know what they’re talking about, and I think it was high time I joined them.”

Brendon sat down in the chair next to Ryan and reached across the small gap to rest his hand on Ryan’s hand. “I am so sorry for what I did,” he said. “And I will never be able to erase the past. So would you give me a chance to try and create a better future? One where you’re loved and cared for and don’t have to worry about anything like your shitty soulmate making dumb mistakes.”

“I don’t think that’s ever gonna stop,” Ryan said, only half joking. “People always make mistakes.”

“Not as dumb as the ones I do,” Brendon said. “I’ll be better. And I know I sound like every bad relationship that has ever been, but I mean it. I feel something for you I physically cannot feel for anyone else. And I don’t want to lose that. I’m not asking for you to forgive me, I’m asking for the possibility that you’ll let me back in your life.”

Ryan tried to take stock like he knew he should. He knew he was supposed to weigh his options and face this like a scientist or something. Weigh the pros and cons and be objective, but fuck, Ryan had always lived his life objectively and almost safely and look where that got him. Watching people be happy from the sidelines and being too paranoid to take what he really wanted from the world. 

So fuck that shit.

“You’ve got your chance,” Ryan replied. “Don’t waste it.”

Brendon grinned so wide that his teeth shone in the moonlight. “I love you, Ry.”

Ryan just smiled shakily and looked to the water again, praying he hadn’t made a mistake.


	13. I’ve Made My Mistakes and Forgiven Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a step in the right direction is always appreciated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the loveliest beta: **cemetarydrivethru**
> 
> okay, so, don't know who noticed but this is the second to last chap

Christmas eve, Ryan came downstairs to about fifteen presents under the tree that were all for him. Six were accounted for because everyone in this house bought everyone a individual present and that was the rule. Ryan had no idea why Gerard had instated that rule. Gerard had probably just been super sensitive to Ryan not having anyone for years and wanted to make sure everyone got something equally for the holidays. It was actually kinda sweet now that Ryan thought about it.

The inexplicable amount of gifts stumped everyone. Patrick and Pete showed up around seven in the evening, Pete with a trash bag spray painted red over his shoulder and a dumb Santa hat on his head. Patrick looked grumpy and tired, but still smiled at everyone. Mikey went to the back and got out the presents everyone had also bought for Pete and Patrick. All the gifts from the Ways and Ross were shit. They’d been too preoccupied with the surgery to actually focus on Christmas, hence the fact that most of the gifts were random knickknacks from Target or Walmart that they were "pretty sure” the other person would like.

Pete had laughed and shook his head as Ryan had explained this. “Even if you’d forgotten about Christmas altogether, we wouldn’t mind. It’s just awesome to be together again like the good old days.”

Ryan had smiled in relief and gone back to making sure the ham came out of the oven at the right time. Ray had written down sleepy directions that Ryan had done his best to follow, but he had made no promises to anyone. Ryan could only cook on the best of days. He had a hard time making anything exemplary when it came to nourishment and while he definitely wanted to get a little bit better, who the fuck had that kind of time?

Ryan attempted to cook the ham to Ray’s standards and Mikey rubbed Ray’s back and kissed all along his face the whole time, just so obviously happy to have Ray home like he’d been for years. Ray was leaning into the touches, kissing Mikey softly when he could, though they still didn’t seem to have any sort of real fun yet, probably because of the radiation thing. Ryan felt bad for Mikey. Mikey was such a horny fucker. It had to suck to know you couldn’t have sex with your lover like the addict you basically confessed to be. Ryan had actually always kinda wondered how that worked. Did Mikey just, like, lay in bed and jack off in front of Ray? Let Ray dirty talk him? Ryan wasn’t usually a sexually driven creature because of years of conditioning to not be sexual, so it was odd that he was suddenly pondering this concept, and on Christmas Eve of all times.

“How did you guys get off while Ray was sick?” Ryan asked before he could chicken out, facing the mashed potatoes so he couldn’t see their faces. He heard Mikey choke on something, whether it was spit or air, and Ray let out this soft noise of confusion, like he didn’t understand the question.

“You serious, Ry?” Mikey asked. Ryan wasn’t sure if Mikey was smiling or not, so he just shrugged. He hoped he could deny responsibility later and blame it on the… potato fumes. Fuck, he was so fucked.

“Just a question,” he tried to defend.

Mikey was suddenly leaning against the counter, grinning at Ryan. “I knew the sexual frustration would finally get to you. When was the last time you beat the meat, Ry? Poor baby boy, so deprived. You’re gonna love the present I got you this year. It was really well thought out and I’m so proud of it. You’re gonna love it.”

“It was pretty difficult to figure out at first,” Ray said, and Ryan was initially confused until he remembered he’d asked a question and Ray was actually gonna answer it. “For a long time, Mikey’s sex drive was nonexistent, and so was mine. We were adjusting to the mortality moment and for nearly a year, we didn’t have any drive. I think. Mikey may have been feeling something, but he probably felt too guilty to tell me so.”

Mikey’s expression became something grim and he didn’t affirm or deny Ray’s statement.

“It was pretty awkward in the beginning,” Ray said with a tired chuckle. “Mikey would wander around with a fucking hard on and dance around me like he was scared to bring it up. I’d hear him in the shower and he never seemed like he enjoyed it. He even came out with red eyes once or twice.”

“My soulmate was dying of cancer and my body was selfish enough to desire something you couldn’t give,” Mikey said. “I felt like a piece of shit.”

“It’s completely natural for your body to desire sexual release and we’ve talked this to death eight different ways,” Ray sighed. “Eventually, I convinced Mikey to stop hiding in the shower and get off with me. I didn’t really do much, but it was kinda sexy and interesting to watch Mikey get himself off.”

“It was super kinky,” Mikey deadpanned. 

“We even figured out how to get me involved,” Ray continued with a slight grin. “Which basically involved him humping my leg like a dog. I could jerk him off when I had the energy. He was always so grateful any time I could join in and would tell me all these cute, mushy things while he was humping me.” Ray snickered as Mikey grew redder. “Some of my favorite memories.”

“I was desperate, sue me,” Mikey snorted.

“It was endearing and made me feel loved regardless of how you felt about yourself and your body needing me,” Ray said. “Ryan can tell you that there’s nothing wrong with that. He’s smart. He knows these things.”

“There’s nothing wrong with continuing to be sexually attracted to your soulmate regardless of the soulmate’s physical or mental health,” Ryan intoned, knowing Ray wanted him to reassure Mikey. “Regardless of what romantics will tell you, a huge part of our attraction to people as people is also skin deep. Emotional attraction is good, but sex and physical attraction are still very important in any relationship and will persist regardless of stressors should it still be applicable. And it’s natural.”

Mikey just looked mildly annoyed with the both if them. “Your cranberry sauce is burning.”

“Shit, fucking nipples,” Ryan deadpanned, going back to the stove and stirring the sauce. Josh came into the kitchen, probably for some eggnog, and Ryan’s brain stuttered for something to say amidst the panic of the burning sauce. “Hey, uh, Josh,” he said. “This sauce is like your mom. Cause it’s about to be “berry” burned.”

What the fuck.

Ryan.

Why did you say that.

Ryan was physically dying on the inside. Mikey was cringing and Josh was midway to the fridge before turning around on his heel and walking out of the kitchen. Fuck.

At least Josh had been smiling a little as he’d left.

Then Frank and Pete were also coming into the kitchen, eyes wide like children. “Ryan, we have a question,” Pete said while Frank nodded repeatedly like Pete was saying some good shit that Ryan was gonna like. Ryan was still coping with his soul curdling bad joke. “It’s important, Ryan,” Pete continued to defend. “Don’t look so pale. You live in LA, not Scandinavia.”

“That’s a cultural region and not technically a country,” Ryan blurted out.

“Is there a psychological reason for why people need stuff to read while they shit?” Frank asked, obviously impatient about getting his answer. 

Ryan stared at them. He didn’t get a fucking degree for these stupid ass questions. “Uh.”

“I mean, there has to be a reason, right?” Frank pressed. “Maybe something about boredom? Or intellect?”

“I think it’s cause we’re embarrassed of pooping as a human species and want a way to distract ourselves from the shame,” Pete helpfully added.

“Uh,” Ryan said again.

“Which is it, Ryan?” Pete demanded.

“If you fuckers are nagging Ryan about reading while taking a shit, I’m gonna drop kick your dicks,” Patrick told them, sounding frustrated. Ryan suddenly felt extreme sympathy for poor Patrick. He wondered how long he’d been listening to Pete and Frank ramble about this concept.

“It’s probably something to do with the need to avoid being alone and having time to think,” Ryan said, hoping that, by answering, he would give Patrick some sort of relief. “With today’s rise in technology and constant mundane stimulation, the lack of stimulation happening when, uh, defecating probably gives people a sense of mental vulnerability of complacency so they look for something to occupy their thoughts and provide distraction.”

Pete snickered. “Defecating.”

“Are you four?” Mikey asked Pete.

“Four out of five, zing!” Pete made a guns with his hands and shot them at Mikey. “I’m gonna finger-bang the fuck outta ya.”

“Been there, done that, and then I upgraded,” Mikey said. Pete clutched dramatically at his chest.

“You wound me,” Pete whispered. “Rose… bud… Ryan, you got any beer?”

“The sauce is burning again,” Mikey said.

“Oh my god, everyone but Ray get the fuck out of the kitchen before I burn the house down,” Ryan blurted out, frantic, and stirring the cranberry sauce again. He knew there was no saving anything twice burned and smelling like this. Mikey snickered and shooed everyone out of the kitchen while Ray laughed and Frank ran to Gerard to tell him of Ryan’s analysis of the pooping issue.

. . .

Ryan still didn’t know where the other nine presents had come from, and no one else seemed to know either. Gerard, Mikey, Ray, Frank, Tyler… The only person Ryan hadn’t asked was Josh, but after his terrible joke this morning, he didn’t want to press his luck. He was honestly floored that Josh was still in the main house with everyone else. Fuck, Josh was even sitting at the dinner table, eating Ryan’s ham and drinking wine and Ryan had lit candles at the table and he…

He missed Brendon.

“You miss Brendon, huh?” Gerard asked as quietly as possible from beside him. “You should call him.”

Ryan shook his head. Christmas Eve and Christmas was weird and meant for family, and family only. While Brendon was gradually becoming family again in Ryan’s book, he knew everyone else wouldn’t welcome Brendon. And that was just a little too heartbreaking for him to stomach. 

“Anyone know where Ryan’s mysterious nine extra presents came from?” Mikey asked. “Like, I don’t even really recognize the handwriting on the address stickers. I’m worried one of them is something fucked up, like a bomb or whatever. Should we call the police? What if the Unibomber is a festive son of a bitch?”

“There aren’t bombs in there,” Josh said with a roll of his eyes, sounding exasperated. “I helped Brendon bring them in last night.”

Silverware clattered and everyone looked to Josh in shock.

Josh was the only one to continue eating, acting as nonchalant as fucking possible. 

“Why didn’t you tell me he was here?” Ryan asked.

“We would’ve kicked him out,” Frank grumbled.

“No, I would’ve said hello,” Ryan huffed, glaring at Frank.

“He wanted it to be a surprise,” Josh said.

“And you helped him?”

Josh shrugged as he glanced to Ryan, then looked away like he felt guilty.

Ryan wet his lips. “… Did you hit him again?”

Josh tensed, but shook his head.

Ryan nodded. “Thank you…”

“I, uh, I think that’s awesome,” Ray dropped in, smiling tentatively. “That Brendon bought you so many things. it was sweet of him. He’s obviously thinking about you.”

“God, I hate that kid,” Frank grumbled.

Ryan just went back to eating, looking at the presents with a lot more excitement than he had before.

. . .

Sleep wouldn’t come to Ryan. 

They’d lied blankets and pillows out on the living room floor along with, like, four different air mattresses, and everyone was sprawled out together with limbs tangled up and soft snores filling the air. Except for Frank. Frank was snoring like a fucking train and Ryan had no idea how everyone else was asleep. The lights from the Christmas tree glowed pleasantly and Ryan stared up at the ceiling with Pete’s head against his thigh and Gerard arm slung over his chest while what was left of Ray’s fro sometimes drifted into Ryan’s mouth. His hair tasted like conditioner and Ryan had to keep blowing it out of his mouth.

There was the faint sound of scrabbling feet and the back gate opening.

Ryan sat up quickly and frowned, carefully extrication himself from the bodies and sneaking to the backdoor. He peaked outside and couldn’t see anyone, so he opened the door and stepped into the grass, looking around cautiously. He probably should’ve grabbed some sort of weapon. The scrabbling sounded a little louder and Ryan looked to the second house, then saw the culprit. Then he started to laugh.

Brendon was hanging onto the porch ceiling, kicking his legs as he tried to lift himself up. He was obviously trying to get upstairs to Ryan’s old bedroom window. Brendon must’ve heard Ryan laugh, because he turned to look and see who was making the noises. Ryan was steadily walking towards Brendon, but when he saw Brendon’s grip slip, he started to run. Brendon shrieked and kicked and then his grip gave out and Brendon was falling to the grass and Ryan was trying to catch him but ended up getting his shoulder crushed under Brendon’s ass and this… 

This was hilarious. 

“Oh shit, Ry, I’m so sorry!” Brendon cried out, scrambling off Ryan and inspecting him with his hands all over Ryan’s body. “Are you hurt? Did I break anything? I thought I heard a snap!”

“Holy shit,” Ryan wheezed, laughing his fucking ass off. He had his knees curled to his chest to cope with the laughter wracking his frame. The grass was wet beneath him and it was cold enough for him to see his breath, which was odd for LA. Brendon was above him, watching Ryan with a frantic worry, and Ryan just wanted to kiss him.

But he couldn’t do that yet, so instead, he reached up and wrapped his arms around Brendon’s neck to bring him down to the ground and wrestle his face into the wet grass. Brendon squawked and flailed and tried to push Ryan away, but he was laughing a little too. Ryan’s pajama bottoms were pretty wet and he knew Brendon’s clothes couldn’t be much better. Brendon pouted and slapped Ryan’s stomach. “Not fair. I was unarmed and unsuspecting. My guard was down.”

“You were trying to sneak into my fucking room on Christmas Eve,” Ryan accused. 

“It was supposed to be romantic,” Brendon pouted. “I’d slip in through your window like if I was Peter Pan and you were Wendy. I was gonna bring you back onto the roof and we’d look at the stars and be really cold and you’d complain and I’d offer you my jacket and then we’d cuddle and maybe…” Brendon trailed off, flopping onto his back and staring up with a wistful sigh. “I just wish I had done things differently, Ryan. So I wouldn’t have to cultivate your trust again. I shouldn’t have hurt you enough to break your trust. I feel stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Ryan said. “You just did something stupid. Really stupid. There’s a difference.”

Brendon nodded, still on his back and still staring at the sky. “… Do you ever think you could’ve been up there if you hadn’t met me?”

Ryan frowned. “What’re you talking about?” He lied on his back beside Brendon.

“If I hadn’t been your soulmate. If you’re had some normal, like maybe Pete. What do you think you could have accomplished in your life if Pete was your soulmate and you never had to care for me? Never had to raise me and alter your entire life to help me? What if I’d… What if I had never existed?”

Ryan didn’t like this. “I don’t want to think about it,” he said. “Because it wouldn’t be you regardless of who it was. Thinking of me with anyone else isn’t the same as if I were with you. It’s stupid to think of other possibilities of compatibility when the world stated, directly and permanently, that I belong to you.”

Brendon smiled sadly. Ryan only knew that because he was watching Brendon and not the stars. “I just feel like I deprived you of an amazing future full of emotional fulfillment and endless possibilities. You got a doctorate two years ahead of schedule, Ryan. You're so smart. You could’ve gone to the moon. Or Mars. Or beyond that. You could’ve cured cancer or saved the bees or been in the olympics or being an internationally famous musician or writer or something. You could’ve been anything. And instead, you became a psychologist so you’d know how tog et me through a few nightmares.”

“You make it sound like that was a waste,” Ryan said. “It wasn’t a waste.”

Brendon didn’t say anything.

“Thank you for the presents,” Ryan said. “I can’t wait to open them. I got you something, too,” which was a little bit of a lie depending on how you defending acquiring something. Ryan had kinda had this all along. “I have to give it to you now.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Brendon said. “I don’t deserve it.”

Ryan sat up and rested his weight on his elbow, looking over Brendon. Brendon looked up at him, finally tearing his eyes away from the ninth sky to watch Ryan instead. His eyes were wide and innocent and trusting and Ryan wondered if the poor kid even wondered if Ryan had thought about the same things, but flipped. What Brendon’s life would’ve been like if Ryan hadn’t been there. The thought alone kept him up at night and Ryan knew that he would sacrifice everything for Brendon again and again if he were given the option for change.

“What’s the present?” Brendon asked, voice soft like he didn’t want to disturbed the air of the night. Ryan bent over, shut his eyes, and pressed their lips together and knew, beyond a shadow of a fucking doubt, that he’d missed kissing Brendon. 

Brendon tasted like dumb ideas and summer despite the cold and Ryan loved the soft feeling of his lips and the touch of Brendon’s tongue that automatically peaked out because Brendon loved kissing Ryan too. Ryan rested his hand on Brendon’s hip and sighed softly through his nose, relaxing when he felt Brendon’s hands come up to hold his face in place. They didn’t really do much aside from rest their lips together and it was still perfect. Ryan eventually pulled away from the kiss, knowing he needed to end it on his terms, otherwise it wouldn't have been a gift.

Ryan opened his eyes and realized Brendon had kept his eyes open the whole kiss. That… meant something that Ryan didn’t understand.

“I’ve got to go back inside,” he told Brendon with naked reluctance. 

Brendon nodded. “I won’t break into your house.”

Ryan smiled and got up from the grass. His entire back was wet but he didn’t mind. He could still feel Brendon’s ghost on his lips. Ryan sighed and offered Brendon a hand to help pull him to his feet. “Get some sleep, Brendon,” he told the boy softly. “Get home safe and get some sleep. They’re gonna expect you to be awake and chipper tomorrow morning.”

“Technically it is tomorrow,” Brendon told him. “And you can’t expect me to function properly after that kiss.”

Ryan smiled wryly. “Get home, Brendon. Don’t let Frank catch you out there.”

Brendon got up and jumped the fence even though the gate was right beside him. Brendon kicked his legs out and nearly face planted in the dirt, and Ryan giggled when Brendon’s head shot up and he waved his hands, declaring he was okay. Ryan chuckled and waved goodbye before going back inside.

Josh woke up when Ryan lied down. “Where’d you go?” Josh asked sleepily. 

Ryan hesitated to tell the truth until he remembered that this was Josh. Unrequited or not, Josh loved him and Ryan loved him too and he shouldn’t have to lie to his friends. “Brendon was outside,” he told Josh, watching the darkness carefully. “He… I kissed him.” He had this fleeting moment where he thought he should apologize for kissing Brendon, but that was stupid. 

He felt Josh nodded and reached out blindly to find Josh’s pink hair. He scratched at it gently and smiled when Josh let out a soft noise of pleasure at the touch. It was nice to touch him again and not feel like he was offending Josh or making him upset. He really missed Josh and hanging out with him and talking about stupid things and he felt like this was a step in the right direction. 

Ryan didn’t understand Christmas, but a lot of good things had happened to him on Christmas night.

. . .

Gerard and Frank teased Ryan relentlessly about the presents as Ryan went through the gifts from everyone else first. Mikey was avidly waiting for Ryan to get to his gift, this stupid grin on his face, like he knew something no one else did, and he probably fucking did, but god, Ryan wanted that smug expression off of Mikey’s face, so he ended opening Mickey’s present next and nearly through the god damn thing across the room.

“A fucking prostate massager!” Pete cackled, holding onto his stomach as he laughed. Patrick was staring at the toy, but tore his eyes from the gift when he heard Pete.

“How the fuck do you know that?” Patrick asked Pete.

Pete shut up pretty fucking fast.

Patrick narrowed his eyes. “Pete. How do you know what a prostate massager is.” He wasn’t even asking, just reminding Pete of his question and expecting him to answer. Pete’s eyes were wide and he looked frantically between Mikey and Ryan for help, but Mikey was too busy being smug and Ryan was grimacing at the toy in his hand, wanting to not be disgusted and failing miserably. He was not open about his sex life. This was weird for him.

“Pete,” Patrick repeated. 

“Oh my god, I just watch a lot of porn, okay?” Pete blurted out. “And I always make sure it looks like you and I fucking love that shit, especially when they tie the Patrick-lookalike down and use toys on him and he becomes this whining mess and maybe I wanna do that with you, but who asks that, Patrick? Who proposes bondage and overstimulation years into a relationship? That’s, like, too little too late, you know? I can’t just introduce new shit this late in the relationship.”

Everyone was staring at Pete now.

“I have a couple toys you can try out,” Gerard offered. Frank nodded with a grin. “They’re good toys,” Gerard continued. “And I can recommend a few brands.”

Patrick blanched. “What the fuck, guys?”

“Do you not wanna try it?” Gerard asked curiously. “I think it’s a lot of fun. Feels fucking fantastic.”

“You can have this one if you want,” Ryan offered, dangling the toy between his fingertips. 

“Hey, that was a gift!” Mikey interjected, offended. “You can’t just give away a Christmas present in front of the person who gave it to you. You have to wait till next year before it’s appropriate to regift something. And who knows— maybe you’ll like it.”

“I’m not gonna like it,” Ryan deadpanned.

“Fucking shit, Pete, fine,” Patrick suddenly said. “I’ll try out your fucking toys, just don’t make it a big deal.”

Pete looked like he’d been told Freddie Mercury was back from the dead and preforming free shows. “Oh my god, really?”

“I just told you not to make it a big deal!”

“This is so kinky,” Frank snorted.

“God, guys, let’s just get back to the presents,” Patrick huffed.

“Is this normal?” Tyler asked Josh. He’d been watching the conversation go back and forth with obvious interest. Josh just nodded. These conversations were very normal for this ragtag family of losers. There wasn’t a god damn filter on anyone in this room.

Ryan tried to open his outlying presents as quickly as possible because he kinda felt a little guilty about having all of these gifts when everyone else didn’t. It was weird that he was being spoiled like this, and by Brendon of all people. He definitely wasn’t used to being pampered by anyone.

The gifts were all pretty random. Little trinkets and things from across the country, and at first, Ryan had thought they were completely random until he noticed a pattern.

When Ryan had been able to tour with Panic! in the early days, he’d watched the bus pass lame tourist trap after lame tourist trap and had always felt like asking for the driver to stop, but there had never been time. He’d only ever brought up the places to Brendon, and Brendon had always been pretty out of it due to exhaustion. There had been a ton of places, like that dumb ball of yarn, of course, and then a dinosaur park in Arizona, the Spud Drove-In in Idaho, the Leaning Tower of the Niles in Illinois. Fuck, he’d wanted to see Dorothy’s House, too, in Kansas. The most stupid of all the spots had been the Maryland National Museum of Dentistry. All of the places had been so fucking stupid and Ryan hadn’t thought Brendon had been listening.

Except one of the gifts was a ball of yarn. Another was a leaning tower of Pisa replica and then there were a bunch of toy dinosaurs, and a brown lunch basket with a stuffed Cairn Terrier poking its head out. Brendon had put an entire fucking bag of potatoes into one of the presents. All of the potatoes had googly eyes glued to them and names written on every single one.

“Are those potatoes us?” Frank asked.

Gerard leaped forward and snatched up the potato with the red hair. “This is me! It has the hair and stuff! Oh my god, Brendon made a potato me!”

Pete’s potato had an emo fringe and Patrick’s was wearing a fedora and glasses. Josh’s potato and bright pink hair, Tyler’s had a cute smile, Mikey’s potato had yellow yarn glued to it and Ray’s potato had a huge afro made out of cotton balls that Brendon had colored brown with a marker. But Ryan’s favorite potato was the one of him and Brendon.

It had been one of those weird potatoes that had two large bodies, but had never completely separated, like conjoined twins. One of the bodies had greaser-like hair drawn onto it, and the other had curly hair, with a heart scribbled onto the meat of the potato that joined the two main bodies.

It was them.

It was fucking him and Brendon and it was the cutest thing in the god damn world.

“That’s fucking adorable,” Pete said. 

Josh nodded his agreement and took the potato. For a split second, Ryan was terrified Josh was going to snap the potato in half, but fuck, Josh wasn’t that petty. Josh smiled crookedly at the potatoes and handed them back to Ryan. “That was sweet of him. Really thoughtful.”

“All of these gifts are so fucking weird,” Frank snickered. “Is this a voodoo doll?”

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “I’d wanted to visit this hoodoo or voodoo place in New Orleans, but I’d never had the time. That’s what all of these are, actually. They’re a bunch of stuff from all these tourist places I’d always wanted to see. We just… We never had the time. Never.” Ryan smiled sadly. “I’m honestly surprised he even remembered these places. I told him when he was half asleep. I just… I had no idea he knew.”

“So these were actually a really good gifts,” Mikey commented, smiling at his potato. “That’s a surprise.”

“Don’t be a cynical dick head,” Ryan said without any actual emotion. He was just gonna make it clear that he would stick up for Brendon. He wasn’t gonna let anyone step all over Brendon ever again and he intended for everyone to understand that. “I’m gonna see him tomorrow,” Ryan said, having decided to do so on the spot. “I’m gonna thank him for these.”

“But first, we’ve got to celebrate,” Gerard piped up. “Because Frankie and I have some great news.” Gerard reached over to entangle his and Frank’s fingers, smiling lovingly to the other man. 

Tyler snorted. “What is this? Is it a pregnancy thing?”

“Essentially,” Frank said. “Gerard and I passed all the tests and exams and shit. We’ve been accepted into the adoption process.” Frank grinned at Gerard. “We’re gonna adopt.”

Ryan nearly jumped off the ground in excitement and everyone started to clap, getting excited and congratulating Frank and Gerard. Tyler crawled forward and hugged Gerard and Mikey grabbed a glass of water and poured it over Frank’s head, and what the fuck, Mikey?

“Fuck, sorry, I got so fucking pumped,” Mikey laughed, taking a step away from Frank, who looked ready to throttle him. “I just, fuck, Frankie! Gee! You guys are gonna have a baby! Are you really okay with that? With all of us being here?” Mikey’s smile suddenly dropped. “D-do we have to move out?”

“Gerard is interested in a communal raising of their kid,” Ryan told Mikey. “He wants us here. I’m sure Frank agrees?”

Frank shrugged. “Just don’t get her into any shitty music.”

“It’s gonna be a girl?” Josh asked.

Gerard giggled. “We’re hoping! But, like, it’s okay either way. I just wanna help a kid. Do you realize how easily Ryan could have ended up in the system?”

Ryan stopped smiling.

“Wow, way to kill the mood,” Josh commented. He was watching Ryan carefully, and fuck, Ryan knew he cared it, was just… Ryan could’ve ended up in an orphanage or something. He shuddered and looked back to the potato and made himself smile again, and didn’t think about how forced it was. 

“Merry Christmas, guys,” Ryan said to everyone with a soft smile. The festivity returned and Ryan spent most of the day trying to figure out where he would put his gifts in his old room. In the back of his mind, he was grateful no one had put up any mistletoe. He wouldn’t have wanted to get caught under it with Josh. Joshy didn’t deserve that.

. . .

“Did you like your gifts?” Brendon asked shyly from across the cafe's table. He was sipping his coffee and watching Ryan with an anxious expression, like he was scared of Ryan’s answer. Ryan couldn’t imagine not liking the gifts. They were so personal and touching and intimate. 

“I love them,” he told Brendon sincerely. “Really. I’m gonna put them on our dresser.”

Brendon’s eyes lit up. “Our dresser?”

Ryan faltered. He hadn’t meant to say that. Brendon seemed to notice and visibly calmed himself. “Sorry,” Brendon said with a sheepish grin. “Just got a little excited. No pressure. I know I’ve got a lot to make up for. I’m not trying to push you.” He started to drum on the table. “I’m glad you liked the stuff! I got everything while on tour. Kenny would get so pissed every time we stopped, but Dallon thought it was cute. I didn’t actually go through most of the stuff cause I actually wanted to wait and do that with you. I just popped into the gift store for each one.”

“Fuck, that’s so sweet of you,” Ryan said, surprised.

Brendon giggled. “You act like…” He trailed off, looking a little saddened. “You honestly didn’t think I cared about you, did you? Not like you care about me. You don’t think I’d ever buy you things or take care of you or show affection.” Brendon smiled in a self deprecating fashion and hung his head in his hands. “I can’t believe i’ve been so awful to you, Ry. I can’t believe you don’t trust me like that, but I don’t blame you. I’ve fucked up so badly, haven’t I? I’ve fucked up so badly…”

Ryan sighed and shook his head. “You’re just, you’re doing your best now. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Brendon said, sounding stiff. “It isn’t. Jesus, I’ve neglected you.”

“Brendon, you haven’t—”

“I went away on tour, yeah, and maybe that’s not neglecting you, but beforehand? When you probably felt like I was just using you for comfort? And I know that’s what you felt. You’re so good to me, Ryan, you were good to me then, too. And I was never good to you. I’m sorry.”

“You were good to me,” Ryan said. “You made me happy. Very happy. You gave me a purpose and a reason to feel something beyond the complete apathy I felt in most of high school. I was able to live beyond myself and the emptiness I felt. Brendon, I would rather die than go back to how I felt when I didn’t know my soulmate. It was horrible, Brendon. It was like the world didn’t have color and I didn’t have a soul. I needed you. I still do. Codependency is the way of the world now and we can’t fucking fight it. It’s unhealthy and stupid, but I don’t care. I need you and I’m not gonna let anyone talk me out of it.”

“I thought we were still tentative,” Brendon said cautiously.

“Fuck being cautious, I’m could die the second I step out of this pancake restaurant,” Ryan said. “I’m gonna follow my heart, and this fucking dumbass, vital organ is trying to pound out of my fucking chest cavity to get to you. What do you say?”

“I say you should see a doctor,” Brendon giggled.

Ryan snorted and reached across the table to tangle his fingers in Brendon’s hair and pull him in for a searing hot kiss. He knew they were in public and that Brendon even ran the risk of being recognized, but why the fuck should that matter? Brendon had been caught cheating on him. Ryan deserved to have the paparazzi catch a public kiss or two. He almost wanted the world to know, but fuck, there was that baby. Ryan didn’t know what they were going to do about that, he was mostly focused on kissing Brendon in public and feeling like his feet were lifting off the ground. 

Brendon let out this happy noise against Ryan’s lips before pulling away with a bright smile. “So what are we, then?”

“We’re dating,” Ryan said with an air of finality. “Dating. Maybe boyfriends.”

“We’ve started from the beginning, right?” Brendon asked. “Because I still had a few ideas for wooing you. I don’t wanna waste them, especially since I’ve already made a couple of purchases. Do you have any idea how hard it is to someone to make flour bouquets in the shape of words? When it isn’t for a wedding, that is.”

Ryan smiled a little. “You can have your fun, sure. We’re gonna have to go on a few dates. Just to test the waters.”

“Even if you’re already back in love with me?” Brendon asked with a pout. When Ryan hesitated to affirm that, he winced. “Sorry, sorry, I’m jumping ahead again. I, like, fucking murdered your trust. I’m sorry. That was way too soon.”

Ryan just nodded, oddly uncomfortable now. He was a little floored by the fact that it was hard for him to return the term of endearment to Brendon. It wasn’t like he didn’t love Brendon— he loved the boy very much. He just… He didn’t feel safe enough to say it. But he hoped he could soon.

“I wanna get another bagel,” Brendon said. “It’s the day after Christmas and all I want are a shit ton of bagels. Is that stupid? It’s not that stupid, is it? Bagels are unappreciated and they definitely need to be at the forefront of everyone’s consideration when deciding on breakfast options.”

Brendon held up his bagel for Ryan to see and started to spin it in a slow circle between his fingertips before making a show of pushing his finger into the bagel hole and dragging his finger in and out while waggling his brow suggestively. “This could be you, Ryan,” he teased. “I learned a thing or two while away.”

Ryan became cautious. “… Oh did you.”

Brendon nodded. “Yep. Watched a shit ton of porn. I wanted to learn about fun new stuff to show off to you when I got back. Pete was helping me out, too. I’d asked Kenny, but he’d been an ass about it, and Dallon doesn’t know a god damn thing about gay sex. But it’s mostly been porn and Pete being a sneaky little pervert and telling me things that he and Patrick do with toys and stuff.”

“Toys?” Ryan arched a brow. “Not sure if I’ve ever been into that.”

Brendon shrugged. “Just wanted to impress you.”

“The fact that you thought of me at all is impressive enough.”

Brendon looked sad, but smiled and stood. “Let’s get you home. I’ve got to get ready for our next date. And I’m sure Prince Charming is needed back at home.”

. . .

There was a knock at the door late at night, and this was weird because Ryan was in the second house, trying to readjust to sleeping in his old room. The new bed and mattress were nice enough. It was just dusty in there, like Ryan had been gone on a long vacation and only just returned.

He answered the door in in only boxer shorts, rubbing sleepiness from his eyes. He blinked slowly when he saw Halsey standing in the doorway, wearing black leather getup that looked like something out of a BDSM porno, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Is Josh home?” she asked a little stiffly. “I was at a party and my friends won’t give me a ride to my car until I talk to him. They’re pissed at how much I’m moping.”

Ryan hesitated. He didn’t want to sell out Josh.

“I’m here,” Josh said from behind Ryan, like a fucking ninja. Ryan jumped and whirled around with wide eyes. He wasn’t sure if this was a good idea.

“I need to talk to you about Ryan,” Halsey said, going right for the throat.

Josh nodded. “Sure.”

“Wait, really?” Ryan asked. He didn’t like how nonchalant and cold they were being. He knew some really hurtful things would be said if they were going to talk while in such hardened emotional states. “Guys, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Fuck off, Ross,” Halsey snapped.

“Don’t talk to him that way,” Josh bit out.

“Don’t talk to him like what?” Halsey demanded. “Like he isn’t the fucking asshole that ruined the best relationship of my life?”

“He didn’t ruin anything,” Josh replied with a sneer. “He doesn’t feel the same way. I was just fucking tired of living a lie. Tired of leading you along. Tired of letting you believe I was with our relationship monogamously, believing that I didn’t fall in love with him all those fucking years ago. This isn’t Ryan’s fault, so don’t you fucking dare take it out on him!”

“Please stop yelling,” Ryan said, voice trembling anxiously. 

Josh’s gaze immediately softened, but Halsey’s hardened. 

“Fuck off, Ross,” she snarled. “Whether Josh believes it or not, this is your fault! He fell for you, not Tyler or, or some fucking bitch. He fucking fell for you and that’s it, and that’s why I’m blaming you. I would blame anyone that he fell for because I can’t fucking blame him. Do you not understand that, Josh?” She turned to face Josh, eyes wild with fury. “I can’t blame you because I still love you and I think you still love me too! Ryan’s just some roadblock, some fucking parasite trying to feed off of us and what we have.”

“Ryan’s not a parasite,” Josh said. “You’re delusional.”

“How can you say that when you loved me one morning, then felt nothing the next?” Halsey asked, sounding a little desperate. “How do you explain that without bringing in something fucking otherworldly or an outsider?”

“I loved you,” Josh said. “I just loved him more.”

Halsey sneered and it was ugly through her tears. She turned to Ryan again, “You asshole. You fucking monster. How dare you? How could you do this, Ross? I have been alone all my life until Josh, and then you took him! He was all I had!”

“I’m sorry,” Ryan choked out.

“No, don’t apologize to her,” Josh interrupted, putting a hand between Halsey and Ryan. “Don’t apologize for anything, Ryan, none of this was your fucking fault and I need you to understand that just as much as she does too! I was the one in love with you, Ryan, not the other way around. I betrayed her trust. I did this to her. Not you, so if I hear her blame you one more god damn time, I’m gonna—”

“You’re gonna what?” Halsey demanded. “Punch me in the gut? Tear out my heart? Kinda feels like you’ve already done that.”

“God, what's with the fucking dramatics?” Josh shook his head. “We’re supposed to have an adult conversation Ashley, so stop with the name calling and verbal attacks and actually fucking act your age.”

Halsey grabbed the object nearest to her— a book from the sofa— and launched it at Josh’s head. When she reached for something else, Ryan got between them (fucking again, because he was an idiot like that), and stared her down. “Get out of here before I call the fucking cops,” Ryan choked out, hands shaking and completely betraying the self assuredness he was trying to portray with his commanding tone. “I’m sorry life didn’t turn out how you wanted it to be,” he said sincerely. “Sometimes things go to shit in the blink of an eye and we can’t do anything for it. I’m sorry this happened to you, Ashely, but it’ll be okay soon.”

“Says you,” Halsey replied, voice wavering with more tears. “Brendon wants to fuck you again. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo. He’s just gonna jump on the next broad that flashes her tits. You mean nothing to him.”

Ryan knew she was saying that to hurt him. He understood that kind of projection and lashing out. He knew she didn’t mean half of the words she was saying right now. “Go home, Ashley,” he said, keeping his tone as even as possible. “Just go home. Sleep it off. Move on and don’t come back. There won’t be any closure here that you need. Only more heartbreak and unanswered questions.”

Halsey stared at him for a long time. Then she nodded and left. Ryan closed the door behind her and turned to face Josh. Josh was watching him like Ryan had revealed himself to be something alien. 

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked. He knew this couldn’t have been easy for Josh either.

“Every day, I’m reminded why I fell in love with you,” Josh said. “And it’s hell.”

Ryan faltered. “I’m sorr—“

“Don’t apologize,” Josh told him. “Just… You’re doing the best you can. And so am I.” Josh took a hesitant step towards him, then leaned in to kiss Ryan’s cheek. “I’m going back to bed,” he murmured in Ryan’s ear as he pulled away. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Thank you for being here. I don’t wanna say that I’ll get over you any time soon, but I’m happy to watch you be happy. I know my time will come soon.”

“Sooner than you think,” Ryan promised, because Josh was too good to be alone for long.

Josh smiled at him and it was real. “Goodnight, Ryan.”

Josh turned away to go to bed and Ryan didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chap will be up in two weeks so i can wrap everything up nicely


	14. In Place of All the Things I never Said (This Impossible Year)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's been good, friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WHY I CHOSE NOT TO END WITH A POLYAMOROUS RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN JOSH, BRENDON, AND RYAN**
> 
>  
> 
> **I had a good number of you lovely readers talk about how amazing it would be for Josh/Brendon/Ryan to enter a polyamorous relationship, and even a few specifically requesting it, so I'm gonna tell ya'll why I didn't, and it all kind stems from one "little" detail.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Josh does not love/is not in love with/feel amorous emotions for Brendon.**
> 
>  
> 
> **If there were to a poly relationship between these three, it would be very unhealthy due to this one fact.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Ryan would be unable to balance the two other men well. Ryan's a very, very passionate person, even though he may not always show it outwardly. The strain of juggling to different men that love him very much but can't necessarily love each other would be way too much stress on him. While Josh doesn't really hate Brendon anymore, he doesn't want to see Brendon with Ryan and would prefer it to be just him and Ryan, meaning there'd be a lot of jealousy and possible areas for open manipulation/fights/arguments. Ryan is always a people pleaser and he wouldn't be physically capable of handling the two men who only want him and not each other.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Brendon is still essentially an elementary school boy with areas of his cognitive development. Things seem far too simple for him and he could easily be roped into doing something without his full consent because he doesn't fully understand what the "thing" would entail. Josh could easily take advantage of that, or Ryan could forget in his stress to handle both Josh _and_ Brendon, and this could create serious trust issues between Ryan/Brendon that would be disastrous for Brendon's development. **
> 
>  
> 
> **Also, _Josh fucking hit Brendon multiple times across the face and gave no apology afterwards, nor did he feel remorse for doing so to Brendon._ That's not a healthy memory for any relationship. The fight was onside and violent and definitely not encouraging of a loving and healthy relationship between three men, two of them being men who fought for the third man.**
> 
>  
> 
> **I have quite a few more reasons, but I have to get started on the new story. Just know that I wish this story could be given the quick and easy fix of a polyamorous relationship, but it can't be. Thanks for being awesome and understanding.**
> 
>  
> 
> Also, thank you for reading this story. It was sooooo much fun to write, but there's not much point in putting something online if no one's gonna read it. All of you are amazing people and you're all the best <3 thanks
> 
> betaed by the lovely **cemetarydrivethru**

The New Year came and Ryan’s first kiss of the year was Brendon, as it always should be. Ryan loved having Brendon be his first kiss. The issue of getting to Brendon during New Year’s Eve had been a bit of an endeavor since Ryan had been with everyone else and had been a little nervous to invite Brendon at all. He’d spent hours before the small party they had planned, inwardly debating on asking Gerard if it would be cool if he invited Brendon over, or if that would be too far. Granted, he didn’t give a shit if Gerard threw shit at him for it, but Ryan wasn’t going to invite someone unwanted when it technically wasn’t his house. He had a little more respect for Gerard and Gerard’s hospitality than that.

Ryan approached the situation carefully. 

“So, uh, everyone’s got a little date sort of thing this year,” he said while nonchalantly leaning against the kitchen counter as Gerard struggled to peel an avocado for some sort of dip Gee wanted to make for the party. “I mean, even Tyler and Josh are discussing having a weird New Years kiss together, and it’s cute, but, uh…”

Gerard looked to Ryan expectantly. “What’s up?”

Ryan shrugged. “I mean, I just, I feel like everyone’s got their date tonight. Patrick and Pete are gonna be attached at the hip. You’ve got Frank, Mikey and Ray… Should I, like, bring a pillow? Maybe invest in some sort of inflatable person?” Gerard was staring at him blankly and Ryan grew a little nervous. “I-I just, you know, it’s a big deal, the year t-twenty something and—”

“If you wanted to invite Brendon, you could’ve just asked,” Gerard told him. “I’m not gonna hate him forever. I’m working on it. And if I wanna work on it, I’ve got to be around him, right? It’s obvious you’ve already decided you’re gonna end up with him no matter what we say. So we better adjust for you.”

Ryan was floored. “Wait… y-you’re gonna try and accept Brendon?”

Gerard frowned. “Well, duh, What else are we supposed to do?”

“Kick me out? Tell me to fuck off? Stop talking to me in general?” He’d never considered his family actually wanting to be good to him. “I dunno, I’d just figured you guys would get pissed and avoid me and stuff. I didn’t think you’d actually, like, accommodate me.”

“Even after all these years, you still don’t give us much credit,” Gerard sighed. “We’re not assholes. I don’t like Brendon, but I’m still gonna try. Give me a some credit where credit is due.”

Ryan nodded, his head ducked in shame. “I’m sorry.”

Gerard just nodded. “So invite him over. If anyone gives you shit, I’ll stick up for you. I’m paying the mortgage, anyways. It’s my choice, and I don’t want you moping this whole New Year party just because you’ve got no one to make out with when that ball drops.”

Ryan surged forward and kissed Gerard’s cheek. “Thank you so much,” he gushed, holding Gerard’s face in his hand to kiss Gerard’s cheek again. “Really, thank you. This means a lot to me. Thank you so much.”

“Of course, Ry,” Gerard replied with a sad smile. “You have fun and invite him over. If anyone tries to start something, just get Brendon and hide in my bedroom. I don’t want anything getting ruined for anyone, and that includes you. But please, don't have sex in my bed. Do it against the sink counter or something.”

Ryan snorted. “Brendon and I are nowhere near there. We only kiss after each date.”

“Your dates are so cute,” Gerard commented. “You’ve gone on one every fucking day, oh my god. I never got to date Frank, we just met in the hall and fell into bed completely after that.” Gerard sighed wistfully. “Frank’s put off his bar for the adoption. Maybe we should go on a few dates.”

“It’s actually really good for long term partners to continue dating into the years,” Ryan advised. “You should continue to date no matter how long you’ve been together. The term “forever young” is pretty widely used in couples therapy so you can kinda remember that you’re supposed to try and stay as in love as you were when you first met.”

“I’m gonna ask Frankie on a date,” Gerard said with a grin. “Go invite Brendon over.”

Ryan grinned widely and nearly skipped away, so very excited to call Brendon. 

. . .

Brendon knocked shyly at the door and when Ray opened it, Ray had to smile, because Brendon had shown up with balloons and flowers and a really expensive cheese platter that had cheese names none of them could pronounce correctly. Ryan wondered if Brendon felt a sort of sickly sense of belonging that Brendon wasn’t sure he deserved when Ray gave in and pulled Brendon into the house with a soft, “welcome home,” that neither Frank nor Josh were meant to hear. Brendon had looked up at Ray like he wanted to cry, but not in a happy way. 

Ryan came forward and took Brendon’s face in his hands, kissing the other softly on the lips to show everyone attending what his standing with Brendon was. He didn’t want any confusion about how Ryan felt so Brendon couldn’t be bullied into thinking the change was one-sided. He saw Frank’s face scrunch up in distaste and Josh looked away the second Ryan’s lips touched Brendon’s, and Ryan wanted to grimace or something, but then Brendon would probably think the grimace would be from the kiss, and Ryan couldn’t stand Brendon feeling that kind of insecurity when he was probably already pretty fucked up about being here in the first place.

“I’m so glad you came,” Ryan murmured against his lips, still holding Brendon’s face in his hands. “I’ve missed you.”

“I saw you yesterday for lunch,” Brendon reminded him, though Ryan could see he was pleased to hear he’d been missed. “You can’t possibly miss me so quickly.” Now he was looking for encouragement through declarations of affection. Ryan didn’t mind that.

“I miss you every second that you’re not at my side,” Ryan told him. He loved the way that Brendon’s smile lit up like a firework and smiled back, kissing Brendon’s cheek. “Want some food? Pete brought a shit ton of fried chicken. I think he’s trying to make Patrick gain some weight cause Patrick has lost weight and Pete fucking loves a chubbier Patrick Stump.”

“Fried chicken sounds so good,” Brendon almost moaned. “But, uh, I-I won’t.”

Ryan frowned. “Why not?”

Brendon shrugged, casting his eyes across the room. “I don’t wanna give Frank a reason to dislike me. More of a reason. I-I know it’s dumb, but he’s a vegetarian, so I was gonna eat like a vegetarian too, for tonight. While I’m around him. Just to be safe.”

Ryan snorted. “Fuck that. Eat chicken with me or I’ll be worried you think me eating chicken looks dumb.”

Brendon looked a little distressed. “But—”

“What Frank thinks about you isn’t important,” Ryan told him with a little more gentleness. “I know you’re worried about being someone that I’d want to bring home to the parents, so to speak, but you gotta realize that I’ve let go of their opinions when it comes to you. I know I want you back in my life, and I’m working towards trusting you again, and that’s all that fucking matters, okay? Not what Frank says, not what Josh says, not what anyone here says. Unless it’s positive.” Ryan grinned a bit. “I will absolutely listen to anything positive that they have to say about you and me and us. Positivity will always be appreciated.”

“I think you’re both perfect for each other,” Ray chimed in, smiling wide. “I think you two look good like this. I’m glad things are working out, more or less.” He looked specifically to Brendon. “Don’t listen to Frank or Josh or Mikey. Frank and Mikey are just protective of Ryan, and Josh has his own problems to work out. It’ll be okay.” Ray moved on, going to the sofa to sit down and rest. 

Brendon looked to Ryan with a perplexed expression. “What’s wrong with Josh?”

Ryan faltered, not surging if he should tell Brendon or not. “I’ll maybe tell you later,” he said. “It’s, uh. Private.”

Brendon nodded and didn’t seem upset to hear that Ryan wanted to keep it from him, which was a relief. Ryan didn’t want this night to be any more tense than it was already going to be. He kissed Brendon one last time to show he was grateful of Brendon’s understanding of the situation and pulled him to the kitchen to grab food. Mikey was there, pouring non-alcoholic drinks, and he paused when he saw Brendon, but didn’t say anything at first. 

“Hey,” Mikey eventually greeted. Brendon waved like he was afraid of him. Ryan arched a brow at Mikey and basically challenged him to say anything bad to his soulmate. Mikey sighed. “I, uh… I think it’s cool you made it,” Mikey added. “I mean, I’m kinda pissed. But I know Ryan isn’t. That’s really what matters, so…” Mikey held out his hand to Brendon. “Clean slate, kiddo?”

Brendon took the hand and nodded, saying, “I’m sorry for what I’ve done to this family.”

“Families always end up hurting one another,” Mikey told Brendon. Ryan loved that Mikey hadn’t ostracized Brendon from the term family with his word choice. “We just have to learn to forgive and move on. I know that’s what Ryan’s doing. We should have the guts to do the same.”

Brendon smiled shakily and then Pete came into the kitchen and barreled into Brendon, hugging him tightly from behind and rambling about the new year, new Pete bullshit, which was so fucking dumb, but Ryan knew Pete lived for these little things and temporary goals. Brendon seemed to loved the caring attention Pete was giving him, so that meant a lot to Ryan, too. 

When the ball dropped two hours early across the country, Brendon had successfully mingled with Gerard and Mikey and Ray, laughing and making jokes with them and acting like not much had changed, and fuck, that meant the fucking world to Ryan. He was so happy Gerard and Mikey were taking the high road. He hoped that one day they wouldn’t have to, like, lie about wanting to be around Brendon.

Mikey told this one stupid joke that had Brendon looking like he was going to pee himself, and Mikey grinned. “I forgot that you were the only person who would ever laugh at my jokes,” Mikey commented, pointing to Brendon with his canned lemonade. “Welcome back, kiddo. Thank you for the moral support.”

“Your jokes are fucking lame,” Ryan said, just to be an ass.

“His jokes are awesome,” Brendon shot back. “You’re just not smart enough to understand the puns.”

Ryan gasped in mock offense to keep from smiling like an idiot.

Two hours later, and the clock was reaching midnight. They were watching the ocean from the backyard, knowing there’d be an amazing fireworks display on the horizon over the ocean, and Ryan’s entire body was thrumming with anticipation. Frank had started the countdown thirty seconds early and Tyler and Pete were shouting enthusiastically along with him. Ryan was carefully holding his drink because he was worried he would crush the can in his hand if he got a little too caught up in the moment. When they reached the final ten seconds, Ryan found himself looking to Brendon instead of the glimmering ocean. 

He looked fucking gorgeous.

Ryan wished he could’ve witnessed the subtle moments that led to Brendon growing up like this, because his cheekbones and jawline were stronger, his lashes were longer, his hair had effort put into it— he didn’t look intrinsically different, his style had just matured and Ryan wanted to run his fingers through Brendon’s hair, mess it all up, bite Brendon’s lips till they were slick and swollen, and leave bruises all along that pale, clear skin. 

It was reckless, really. Brendon was still under the eye of the media. Frank would probably give Ryan a ton of shit. Josh would talk to him even less. But Brendon was his fucking soulmate, and he kinda had the right to make him up, didn’t he? Ryan had the fucking right.

Then the count had reached zero without Ryan realizing and Brendon was up on his toes to kiss Ryan with a smile so big that it kinda messed up the actual kiss, but Ryan thought the moment was perfect. The new year began with the touch of Brendon’s lips to his, and everything felt a little more right.

. . .

Josh caught Ryan right before everyone turned in for bed around four in the morning. Brendon was gone, Ryan was unguarded, and Josh was about to subtly destroy that happiness.

“If I had known that the last kiss we shared was going to be the last one for the rest of my life, I would have savored it.”

Ryan watched Josh disappear into Josh’s bedroom with the sinking feeling that maybe nothing was right after all.

. . .

Valentine’s day was February 14th. Brendon and Ryan were still dating, tentatively, though Ryan was steadily falling more in love and never bothered to hide it, and Brendon was talking about recording an album and hinting at getting Ryan’s help, and on Valentine’s day—

“I wanna come out,” Brendon told Ryan from across the living room. “To the press and everyone. If only just as a homosexual to start with. So people will stop talking about if I’m still with whoever or whatever. So Travie will stop making teasing jokes about him and I. So Kenneth will stop being an ass.” Brendon was looking deeply into the eyes of the stuffed bear Ryan and gotten him for Valentine’s day. Ryan hadn’t opened Brendon’s gift yet, but he was sure it was nice. “I’m gonna make a Facebook post or a twitter thing or something and I’ll tell the world I’m with you and then they’ll be able to stop.”

Ryan paused. “What about your kid?”

Brendon grimaced. “… I’m not gonna think about that until I have to. Sorry. I just, I don’t see how it’s gonna be helpful to me to worry about that. I’ll pay child support or whatever. I just don’t want to let that get in the way of me trying to fix us. I need to repair this. You’re the most important thing in the world to me and I’m gonna fix this first and then worry about whatever else.”

“The kid is due to be born in, like, a few months,” Ryan reminded him cautiously. 

“Good,” Brendon replied. “That gives me a few months to make you love me again.”

Ryan smiled softly. “You can come out if you want to. I won’t mind.” He’d secretly been wanting that for years.

. . .

_over the course of my life i have had one person who's been there for me since i can remember_

_i had a very tough childhood and went thru some hard things and i never would have made it this far without one specific person_

_you all think that i have no soulmate or maybe i left my original but that isn't true_

_a few of you may remember back from the original days of panic! at the disco and even fewer of you may remember how close those guys and i were_

_i am here to officially let all of you know that i had a soulmate and someone i am deeply in love with_

_he has been with me thru all the hardships of my life and i am working hard to make up for what i’ve done to him with my recent fiasco with ‘the girl’ and i am forever grateful and indebted to him for the second chance he has given me_

_i love him so much_

_i don’t know if its cool to say his name yet but i wanted to let all of you know that he isn’t in my band and he isn’t on tour and he isn’t any of those goons you guys put me with (i say that with love)_

_thank you for listening_

. . .

Frank read the post about a hundred times in front of Ryan, a finger to his lips like he was trying to figure something out. He looked unhappy but in a sort of put out way, like he was being proven wrong. Ryan watched him anxiously. He still wasn’t sure why Frank had asked him to come and watch him read the post on the official Panic! website a couple million times.

“… I think I’ve been pretty harsh,” Frank finally said. “Concerning Brendon. I think I had it in my head that he was out to get you. That this was a mistake, but only in the sense of the usual mistake that comes with cheating.” Frank sighed. “I am… honestly beginning to believe that Brendon had thought you would’ve approved what he did because he thought he was doing a good thing for something. He didn’t know he was being manipulated. And he didn’t know that you were going to be upset. He honestly and legitimately didn’t know.

“It’s not an excuse,” Frank added. “It’s not. But it’s a reason to start to forgive him.”

Ryan moved forward and hugged Frank. “Thank you.”

“I still think you should let him sweat a little,” Frank sighed. “But he’s doing his best and finally showing that he cares about you more than the band. That’s what had really gotten to me. I’d thought he cared of his image more. I’m glad to learn that that’s not that case.”

“He’s so good to me,” Ryan said softly. “He bought me a new jacket and it’s awesome. It’s leather and sexy. I fucking love it, Frankie, you should see how it looks on me, I look really good. I-I mean, I don’t often say that, you know? But I do like god.” Ryan smiled shyly. “Brendon knows how to make me feel good about myself.”

“I wish I could hate the guy.” Frank sighed again. “Still. He’s doing a lot more than I ever thought he would.”

Ryan had a dreamy expression. “I’m in love again,” he told Frank. “It feels nice.”

Frank shook his head. “Hopeless romantic.”

Ryan didn’t care. He went to text Brendon and let him know the good news about Frank.

. . .

Pete and Patrick came over St. Patrick’s night with Brendon and Patrick kinda fucked up.

“Oh, dude, Ryan!” Patrick gasped in excitement as a certain TV show came on while they were channel surfing. “This is that one show we watched every day when I was over!”

Pete frowned. “When were you over?”

And Ryan wanted to shove his fucking face into his hands and scream into his palms. Brendon and Pete were both looking to him and Patrick expectantly and this wasn’t fucking good. Patrick looked so guilty already. They weren’t going to make it out of this one unscathed. Pete was going to be so mad.

“So, uh, hey,” Patrick began. “Did you know I got in a car accident a while ago?”

Pete’s stare was empty. Then he started laughing. “No you didn’t,” he denied easily. “I would’ve known.”

“I was in a wheelchair for a broken leg for, like, a week or something,” Patrick continued. It had been much longer than a week. “I stayed here with Ryan and everyone. They took care of me and lied about where I was so you wouldn’t be worried or get upset.” Patrick quickly added, “one hundred percent my idea.”

Pete was still laughing like a psycho edging on hysterical. Ryan couldn’t imagine how harrowing it must feel to learn your soulmate got in a car accident serious enough for a wheel chair and never really knowing. He felt bad for Pete. “You’re lying,” Pete said. Then Pete moved suddenly and tried to pull up Patrick’s pant leg, probably looking for a scar or something that should’ve tipped him off. Ryan was a little relieved to remember there hadn’t been a scar.

“I healed and was totally okay,” Patrick told Pete, grabbing Pete’s hands and holding on tight. “I’m okay. I-I know I should’ve told you, I was just so worried you’d be stressed out with Brendon and the band and stuff and I didn’t want to shove more onto your plate. Fuck, I definitely should’ve told you. Don’t you dare blame Ryan, though, or fucking anyone. But I should’ve told you.”

Pete was watching Patrick with this look of pained acceptance. “You were doing that for me?”

Patrick nodded, daring to smile.

“Y-you could’ve died…”

Patrick grimaced and nodded. “I could’ve, yeah, I really could’ve. But I didn’t, and fuck, I really didn’t want to scare you or stress you out or anything. Don’t take this out on anyone, please. It’s completely my fault.”

“Fuck, Ryan should’ve told me,” Pete said.

“No, I told him not to,” Patrick huffed. “Stop. Okay? stop.”

“Ryan should’ve told me,” Pete insisted. Ryan just sighed and tried not to get upset about being caught up in this. Brendon frowned and moved closer to Ryan’s side, watching Pete with narrowed eyes, like he was ready to protect Ryan like some golden retriever. Ryan loved the touch of their shoulders and savored it.

“I was doing as Patrick asked of me,” Ryan said. “I wasn’t going to sell him out like that.”

Pete let out this whine and pulled at his short, blond hair, looking between them like he wanted to get upset, but didn’t want to be upset at the same time. “I, I don’t…” He whimpered and looked to Patrick, shaking his head. “Never again. Never do that again. I don’t feel good.”

“Never again,” Patrick promised, reached out to hold Pete’s hand with a sigh.

Ryan leaned a little more heavily into Brendon and thanked god that he didn’t get yelled at. “Could’ve been worse,” he said to Brendon.

“You really hid Patrick while he was healing?” Brendon asked, wide eyed.

Ryan shrugged, watching Pete and Patrick discuss something in hushed voices. “Just did what I had to do for my friend.”

. . .

“I wretched up my insides.”

Ryan looked to Brendon in slight shock when Brendon said that. Brendon was sitting on Ryan’s bed, watching Ryan get dressed for their more formal date tonight. Ryan turned to face Brendon, abandoning the search for his suit jacket in favor of going down on his knees in front of Brendon on the floor. “Baby, why?” he asked softly, resting his hands on Brendon’s knees. “Why did you throw up? Are you sick?”

Brendon shook his head. “The, the other wretched. Wretch-ed.”

Ryan’s expression fell even more. “What happened?”

“The moment I realized I couldn’t come home, I felt like someone had mixed up my innards with a blender,” Brendon mumbled, eyes cast downward. “I started crying a lot more often for no reason. I think I even cried onstage a few times, but no one noticed. I cried all the time after you found out. I hadn’t really realized I did something so wrong until you told me.” Brendon started to tear up and he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hands, sniffling. “I-I never meant to hurt you. I cried so much, but it didn’t help. I could never make you see how sorry I was.”

Brendon pulled his hands away and looked to Ryan. The crying had gotten worse, huge tears rolling down Brendon’s cheek. His lower lip was trembling and he would bit his lip now and again to try and make it stop. Brendon’s cheek were splotchy and red. “I-I couldn’t tell you how sorry I was and it killed me.”

Ryan looked Brendon over for a few long moments before he stood and ran his fingers through Brendon’s hand three times. He then pulled Brendon up gently by his arms and pushed him fully onto the bed, deciding they weren’t going on their date tonight. Ryan pulled off his shirt and crawled onto the bed with Brendon, getting under the covers with him. “We’re just gonna stay under here and watch movies on my laptop,” Ryan told Brendon. 

“But our date—”

“You’ve already proven to me you’re invested in us,” Ryan interrupted softly. “I trust you.”

Brendon’s eyes watered more and he squirmed forward to hide his face in Ryan’s neck. “Thank you…”

Ryan smiled sadly and rubbed Brendon’s back. “We’re close to fixing this. I promise.”

Brendon let out a shaky breath. It spread across Ryan’s skin like warm ocean spray, and Ryan shuddered. “C-can we still date? I like taking you out.”

Ryan just laughed and pulled Brendon’s face from Ryan’s neck to kiss him.

. . .

Easter morning, none of them cared about the holiday, but Ryan still thought the date was important.

“Asking Brendon to move back in is a big deal,” Gerard warned Ryan. “I mean, you guys haven’t even had sex yet and you’re already gonna live together. That’s a big leap, Ryan. You haven’t even traded ‘I love you’s,’ have you?”

“I need him around,” Ryan said firmly. “I just, I do. You’ve got Frank, Mikey has Ray, Pete has Patrick, literally everyone has someone else living with me. You gotta let me have this, Gee, please? I’ll pay his rent or something just to convince you to let him stay with us again, please. My bed is so fucking empty.”

“You could ask Josh,” Gerard suggested. Ryan’s expression shut that suggestion down. “Sorry, you’re right. That’s too far.”

“I’m not gonna fucking do that,” Ryan said firmly. “It isn’t fair to Josh.”

“You’re right,” Gerard sighed. “I’m sorry… Is he gonna be okay with Brendon moving back in?”

Ryan’s heart sunk. “Why is this so complicated?” he asked.

“Because sometimes having a clear plan is also having a clear target for the world to use to fuck you over,” Gerard told him.

“God, fuck, what do I do?” he asked. Gerard shrugged.

“I mean… You want Brendon to live here. So that’s what you should do. Even if it hurts Josh, I-I think you’ve spent a lot of time putting everyone else in front of yourself. Maybe it’s time you put yourself up ahead. I know I’ve probably said that before, but you’re dumb. You’re stubborn, too. I’m gonna say it again so you know that I think you should be selfish for once in your life and do what makes you happy.”

Ryan grimaced, unsure. “You think?”

Gerard shrugged again. “I think I was being cautious before. I know you’re the type of guy to think everything to death. I should’ve realized you’ve thought of all the angles. Of being in love and then not and of the seriousness of this commitment. You think things over till you’re blue in the face and I’m stupid to say you wouldn’t.”

“But Josh—”

“If Josh loves you, then he won’t begrudge you for being happy,” Gerard told him. Ryan paused, then nodded.

“I’ll apologize to Josh,” Ryan said. “I, I’ll make it up to him. But I’ve got to be with Brendon.” He knew he should feel guilty over deciding so quickly to do something that would definitely cause Josh pain, but he wanted to believe he deserved this. And he wanted his own fucking happy ending, god dammit. He’d find Josh’s later.

. . .

“Oh my god, and they’re okay with this?” Brendon asked after Ryan had proposed Brendon moving back in. “Gerard is okay with this? And Frank? Mikey, Ray, Joshy, everyone? They’re all okay with this?”

“Gerard gave the okay, so fuck the rest of them,” Ryan deadpanned. He’d never really been this blatantly selfish before. It felt kinda good.

“But Josh…” Brendon bit his lip, letting the steam of his coffee fog up his glasses. Ryan had fallen in love with the glasses the second Brendon had put them on while explaining that Patrick had suspected he’d needed them for a while. An optometrist had affirmed that, and the lenses were thick and bright red and Ryan thought he looked amazing. 

“What about Josh?” Ryan asked.

“I mean, you know, right?” Brendon looked wary. “You have to know…”

“Know what?”

“That he’s in love with you.”

Ryan paused. “… How do you know that?”

“I can tell,” Brendon said.

“He told me that if he’d known our last kiss was going to be it, he would’ve savored it,” Ryan told Brendon, letting the floodgates open now that he knew Brendon knew. “That night he hit you was the night he told me. He tried to move out, but I wouldn’t let him, and I don’t intend on losing him, B.”

Brendon nodded. “You should kiss him.”

Ryan blanched. “What?”

“Josh,” Brendon said. “You should kiss Josh. One last time. Let him know it’s the last so he can actually enjoy it. Actually savor it like he said he wanted to. I know you might think it’s cruel or whatever, but I think he’s gonna hurt no matter what. You should give him what he thinks he wants. At least then you can know you did your very best.”

Ryan frowned. “… Is that why you slept with the girl?”

Brendon paused, brown knitting together as he thought. “Oh… I guess so.”

Ryan frowned deeper.

Brendon smiled in a self deprecating fashion. “I guess I’m pretty fucked up, aren’t I?”

Ryan sighed. “I’ll think about it.”

“Think about what?”

“About kissing him,” Ryan clarified. “Just, you seem to think it’s a good idea. I’m open to anything to help Josh stop hurting, if at least for a moment. And it’s just a kiss, right? You wouldn’t be upset by it if I did.”

“Ry, I’d let you have sex with him if you asked,” Brendon said. “I already fucked you over. You’ve got a freebie.”

“That’s not how relationships work, B…”

“Well, the offer still stands,” Brendon insisted. “I mean, I know you’re not that type of person. I know you’re better than that. It’s not an insult, it’s just me being, like, desperate to make things up to you.”

“I’m asking you to move back in with me,” Ryan said softly. “You don’t need to try so hard. You’ve already done so well. I’ve even forgiven you, Brendon, you know that, and I know that you’re not gonna do it again. You know what you did was wrong.”

“But I’m still gonna have to raise a kid,” Brendon said. “And that’s gonna follow us for the rest of our lives. So maybe you’re satisfied, but I’m not. I’ve still got a long way to go before I feel like I’ve really made up for what I put you through. The way I betrayed you. I need to fix that first, Ryan, a-and I think you’re gonna have to let me.”

Ryan snorted. “I’m not sleeping with Josh just to help you feel better.”

“Not even for me?” Brendon asked with a pout. It took Ryan a second to realize Brendon was joking. Ryan leaned across the table to kiss his cheek.

“Move in with me?” he asked again. Brendon giggled and nodded and finished his coffee before calling Dallon and letting him know that he’d be getting the spare bedroom back.

. . .

“Oh my gosh, so many fucking outfits,” Jon said as he helped carry in Brendon’s suitcases of clothes. “Is this a famous musician thing? Do you even wear half of these? Are you hoarding? If none of these fit anymore, fucking hit me up. Cass would fucking love any of these things, I’ll bet. Anything with sequins.”

“All of those are expensive and things I stole off of photoshoot sets,” Brendon giggled. He’d taken an immediate liking to Jon, latching onto his side and feeding off of the dry sarcasm and disturbing knowledge of the seventies that Ryan hadn’t realized Jon even had. “I mean, if you steal them from me, you’d be stealing from the company. Then I’d report you in petty retaliation and we’d be in court! Like in the movies!”

“What shitty movies have you been watching?” Jon asked. 

“Hey!” Pete shouted from the distance, sounding offended.

“You need better movie material,” Jon said.

“I’ll fix that,” Ryan said as he passed Jon on the left with a plastic laundry bin full of fancy shoes. Some of them were bright red with glitter. He kinda really wanted to see Brendon in most of these, and nothing else.

Brendon paused when they got to the room. “I’ve been meaning to ask, Ry,” he said. “Did you really burn that mattress? Like, to the ground?”

“In the middle of a desert,” Jon affirmed. He probably didn’t care if it hurt Brendon to hear that. Jon probably needed to get some of his own frustration with Brendon’s actions out. “It was a grand affair. Drove for fucking hours, got Starbucks on the way back, and everything was pretty fun. It helped Ryan a lot.”

Brendon looked to Ryan with complete remorse. “I’m sorry, Ry,” he said. Ryan just shrugged. They set up the bedroom, making room for more trinkets and things that Brendon had and Ryan’s closet was a to more full than it had ever been. Brendon had a shit ton of clothes, and Ryan almost wanted to be a second dresser, or a pair of chester drawers to put at the foot of the bed and old more of Brendon’s wardrobe.

Brendon dropped onto the bed and snuggled into the blankets with a wide smile at the ceiling. “I’m home, Ryan,” he said softly, smiling up at Ryan like Brendon had fallen in love with him all over again. “It’s good to be home,” Brendon added. “I just really, really missed this room. This ceiling. I missed being able to wake up next to you and have the world know I’m in love.”

Ryan smiled wryly and started to change into his pajamas, ready for bed. “I’m gonna get up early and make breakfast for Josh tomorrow,” he said. “It’ll be an apology thing.”

Brendon just straight up stripped. “I sleep naked,” he told Ryan. 

Ryan laughed, lied in bed beside him, and fell asleep with Brendon finally in his arms again.

. . .

Ryan made Josh breakfast the next morning, as he’d said, and Josh had been amicable enough, but the morning had been usurped by Tyler barreling downstairs with a grin and his laptop. “Watch this, Ryan,” he said, turning the laptop so Brendon could see the screen. It was black with a white play button in the center, so obviously a video that Ryan was supposed to watch. Tyler clicked play and Ryan watched expectantly.

The video started out showing some bedsheets and the typical clatter of a microphone being muffled and then the camera was flipped and Ryan’s brow shot way up when he saw it was Brendon. Brendon was obviously shirtless and grinning and looking like he had just woke up. It was completely dark, so the video was probably taken sometime in the middle of the night.

 _“Hey guys,”_ Brendon whispered to the screen. It occurred to Ryan that this could’ve been from months ago, or a few hours ago. _“So, I know I’ve been pretty in the dark lately. I’m also really sorry about cancelling that tour, god, I know you guys were looking forward to it, but there was something really, really important that I had to take care of. Thanks for understanding, by the way. It means a lot to me.”_

Brendon shifted the camera a little, looking like he was trying to get more comfortable. Brendon wasn’t showing his surroundings, so Ryan couldn’t tell where he was.

 _“I’ve been meaning to make an announcement after that one post,”_ Brendon said. _“It’s pretty important. I know they’re been all this shit about Joanne and that picture and how she’s saying she’s pregnant and things, and it’s honestly really messed up my life because I have someone very, very important to me who was hurt immensely by what I did. And I can’t have that, guys. I can’t have my boy thinking that he’s worth anything less than the world to me. And yeah, you heard that right. Wanna meet him?—”_

Brendon shifted again, squirming. The camera went blurry until Brendon stopped moving and Ryan was a little shocked when he saw his own sleeping face.

 _“Ryan Ross,”_ Brendon said with a proud smile. _“My soulmate and lover and best friend. And I worked hard to get back by his side. You don’t just fuck up and cheat and bounce back from that without a little begging. And man, have I begged._ ” More moving around, more unfocused camera. Brendon stopped to show himself nuzzling into Ryan’s neck. _“This is my soulmate,”_ Brendon told the camera. _“Not Travie or Dallon or any of the people you guys put me with. This is my soulmate and the only person I’ll ever really love and long for, as the rules of soulmates go. And I’m so fucking happy to be with him again and just wanted to let ya’ll know.”_ He blew a kiss to the camera.

The video ended there and Ryan sat in his chair, stunned.

“Look at that, Ross,” Josh said. “You’ve been outed.”

Ryan just couldn’t speak.

Brendon stumbled down the stairs a few moments later and Ryan grabbed him and pulled him in for a deep kiss. “I love you,” he told Brendon. Brendon saw the video on the screen that had minimized and showed the Panic! at the Disco official website. Brendon smiled and kissed Ryan back happily.

“I love you too.”

. . .

“Are you guys ready?” Mikey asked at the end of April, staring at the door nervously. Today was the day. The fucking day. Gerard and Frank had gone to fucking Jersey three days ago to pick up the kid they were adopting and they were only getting back today. Brendon had decorated the entire main house with streamers and a banner reading “welcome home!” and he and Josh had made a ton of deserts that honestly made Ryan a little queasy to think about. Too much sugar.

“Everything’s set up,” Ray said from the couch, eyes far away as he began to list the things Gerard and Frank had asked them to do in preparation. “Dust the kid’s room, buy age appropriate food and snacks, get backpacks and crafts supplies, put the safety plugs in all the electrical sockets, rubber ends on all sharp corners…” Ray looked up at Ryan. “Did we forget anything?”

“Have you done your mental exercises today?” Ryan asked him. Ray nodded and Ryan smiled, tugging at a strand of curly hair on Ray’s head that had nearly grown back completely. “Then we’re good. Everything’s ready. We’ve got the food and the clothes and the space and the family. Now we just need the newest member.”

“I’m gonna teach it so much cool stuff,” Brendon said.

“I’m gonna make sure it doesn’t make the dumb mistakes I do,” Mikey said. “Like that toasters shouldn’t be searched inside of… I’m not sure how to say this sentence.”

“I don’t trust you to be the one to keep this kid from fucking up,” Ray laughed softly, looking to Mikey with all the love in the world. “I’m sure we can trust Gee to take care of that. He probably won’t let the kid out of his sight until the kid graduates.”

“What if it doesn’t speak English?” Brendon asked suddenly with wide eyes. “Should we learn Spanish? Or German?”

“I can speak a little German,” Josh said helpfully. 

“You can ask where the bathroom is,” Tyler clarified. “And how much condoms cost. That’s it. We’re not talking to a kid like that.”

“Is that the car?” Brendon asked before running to the front window and peeping through the blinds. “Oh my god! The car! They’re here!” He ran back to Ryan’s side with a wide smile. “Don’t wanna spoil the pretty baby face! I wanna see it with you guys for the first time! All together.”

“You seem excited,” Josh said to Brendon, smiling a little. Fuck, that was a beautiful sight. Josh and Brendon getting along. It was taking some work, but Brendon was stubborn and genuinely liked Josh and Josh wasn’t some petty kid that threw a fit when he couldn’t get his way. Things were tentative, but they were progressing and that was what fucking mattered.

The doorknob jiggled and Ryan was jolted out of his thoughts. The door opened and Gerard was walking inside, holding the hand of a beautiful little girl with dark hair, talking to her softly and then pointing to everyone with a wide smile. Ryan’s heart melted and he was already so fucking in love. Then Frank came into view behind Gerard and he…

He had another child.

There were two mini clones.

“Holy crap,” Mikey breathed, eyes wide like saucers. “Twins. Fucking twins.” Mikey looked to Ryan, his jaw hanging slack. “They got twins, Ryan.”

“Holy shit,” Ryan blurted out. Then he slapped his hand over his mouth and realized that he definitely couldn’t curse with as much freedom as he was accustom to. There were kids in the house now. Ryan had to watch his words.

Gerard looked up at them with a shaky smile, like he was nervous of their opinions. Brendon, though, was absolutely in love. Mikey and Ray were smiling now that the shock had passed and these two little girls looked so much like Frank and Gerard that Ryan would’ve sworn they were actually the offspring of the Ways if he hadn’t known better.

“Guys,” Frank said with a manic grin. “Meet Cherry and Lilly Way.”

“Oh my god, I need to hug them,” Mikey said, reaching out. One of the girls had a guarded expression, but the other looked a lot more eager to start exploring and meeting people. They were so, so fucking cute, too, with matching dresses and headbands. Ryan was pretty sure the dresses were years old and from the orphanage. He knew Mikey and Brendon would have a blast buying the girls clothes and dressing them up. God, even Ryan wanted to take them out and spoil them in a way that they had probably never been spoiled before.

His heart sunk to think about how these two girls had ended up in the system.

“We’re gonna order pizza tonight,” Gerard said. “I figured for the first night as a new family, we need to enjoy some really good food before attempting to cook.” He looked down to the girl holding his hand. “Sound good, Lils?” The little girl nodded and smiled. “Awesome!” Gerard chirped. “We’ll watch Star Wars and get to know each other!”

“I’ve got the popcorn!” Brendon announced, running to the kitchen. Josh and Tyler eagerly got blankets and made a bed on the floor and Gerard and Frank sat with Lilly and Cherry sitting between them, Ray and Mikey on the sofa.

By two AM, though, Ray was on the ground with Frank sprawled atop him, Josh and Brendon and Tyler were tangled like spaghetti, Gerard had his open mouth pressed to Mikey’s shoulder, and Cherry and Lilly were braiding Ryan’s hair, whispering in a language they had made up for each other years ago and smiling at Ryan.

. . .

“Bees are monsters,” Lilly declared the next morning as Ryan, Gerard, and Frank walked the two girls to get donuts by the beach. “Monsters in stripes. Fashionista monsters!”

“They dress better than you,” Cherry said told Ryan bluntly.

“Your girls are brutal,” Ryan said.

Gerard shook his head in dismay and Frank just looked so fucking proud.

. . .

“What I’m really excited for,” Gerard told Ryan two days later as he watched Lilly and Summer slow learn who’s room was whose in the house. “Is the day the girls wake up and tell me they’ve met someone in a dream who they think is really cool and that they think they wanna meet in person one day.”

Ryan smiled softly as the girls squealed and ran away from Mikey, who was chasing them between rooms. “Some people say that twins have soulmates in other twins, but it’s kinda bullshit. They can be with completely different people. A soul has nothing to do with the outward appearance. The girls can be completely different people and end up with people who are opposites.”

“So they’re not gonna get the same person?” Gerard asked.

Ryan shook his head. “They’re not the same person just because they look alike. They’re gonna be two separate souls, especially as they grow up and develop different likes and dislikes and interests and shit.”

Gerard whined.

Ryan frowned. “What? Are you, like, disappointed in who their soulmates will be?”

“No,” Gerard sighed. “I just thought it would be a lot easier if the girls’ soulmates were in the same place. They wouldn’t have to work as hard. They wouldn’t have to work separately. I-I hated when Mikey left me for Ray. I didn’t want them to go through that.”

“You’re so considerate,” Ryan said with a smirk.

“Think about it,” Gerard prodded. “The final separation between them will come from when they part ways to find their soulmates.” Gerard looked honestly wounded by the thought. “I don’t want that to happen. Family is so important, Ryan, especially the family you make. F-fuck what the world says about moving out and shit, I-I want them to feel like they’ve always got here to come back to, and I don’t want them to leave. I don’t want them to leave me.”

Ryan sighed. “God, Gee, you’ve already got it so bad…”

“I don’t want the girls to leave me for a new family that they think is better,” Gerard said. “I have the best family in the world right here. They can’t find anything better. They won’t find anyone who will love them more.”

“Except their soulmate,” Ryan pointed out.

Gerard let out this noise of absolute turmoil and tugged at his hair. “Ry…”

“You wanted to leave your parents,” Ryan reminded him. “I wonder if they’d felt the same way as you do now about the same thing.”

“My parents didn’t actually love me,” Gerard said. “They didn’t because they rejected me and they rejected Mikey. They never really loved us and so you can’t say they felt the same way about me and Mikey as I feel about these girls.”

Ryan sighed and nodded. “Just don’t smother them. Don’t make them feel afraid to be who they are just because they’re worried about hurting your feelings.”

“I don’t want them to leave,” Gerard said in obvious distress. 

Ryan pat Gerard’s shoulder in a friendly manner, before running after the girls with Mikey to clear his head.

. . .

“Do you forgive me yet?” Brendon asked softly later that night, perched atop Ryan’s hips, straddling Ryan’s body and resting his hands against Ryan’s chest while looking down on him. Ryan had a gentle hand on Brendon’s side and the other on Brendon’s upper thigh, holding him steady. When it was dark, Brendon would sometimes lose his balance. It had a lot to do with his malnutrition and upbringing in constant and complete darkness when Brendon’s body and brain was developing. Ryan always made sure to keep Brendon upright with his hands whenever the lights were out. 

“I want you to forgive me so badly,” he murmured. “The baby will be born soon. I don’t want you to hate me through it all.”

“I don’t hate you,” Ryan promised softly, honestly enjoying the touch of their bodies that had somehow managed to feel innocent regardless of the fact that both of them were naked in bed with the sheets tossed aside despite the cold. The heat from Brendon’s body against his lower half was definitely more than enough to warm Ryan to his very soul. “I don’t know how we’re going to manage the kid, but I’m positive we can do it. I know you weren’t looking to hurt me, and I know you regret it all. You’re doing your best.”

Brendon bit his lip and shifted his weight, bending down to kiss Ryan. He swayed forward a little bit too much, true to the lingering vertigo, and crushed their noses together. Ryan choked on a laugh and steadied Brendon with his large hands against Brendon’s chest. “Don’t break anything, baby,” he teased. Brendon was probably pouting, though Ryan couldn’t see in the darkness of the bedroom. 

“I know you say it doesn’t upset you, but I feel like it does,” Brendon insisted. “It’s not your kid. Not our kid. If I have to raise it…” He sighed. “I shouldn’t be expected to raise a child I can’t love.”

“Society is backwards,” Ryan said. “Responsibility isn’t cut and dry like people think. Sometimes people don’t understand we have to think of the kid, too. What kid wants to be raised by loveless parents? It’s all stupid. Don’t worry about it. I’m with you no matter what.”

Brendon let out this little whimper that sounded like a groan too before he dropped to the bed at Ryan’s side. “One day, I’ll have fixed it all,” he told Ryan. “This pain will have only been a memory and we’ll be together forever, even in our graves. And no child or girl or boy will ever be able to tear us apart.”

Ryan smiled and pulled Brendon onto his chest, perfectly willing to believe that to be the truth

. . .

Dallon came over about a week before the pregnancy was due to end. The girl, who Ryan still couldn’t remember the name of, had been reporting the usual signs of eventual birth, and Brendon was constantly on edge. Dallon had come over to help Ryan understand a few things. This was also the first time Ryan had ever met Dallon, and Ryan really fucking liked him, especially since the man was so level headed. Ryan was going to need this calmness to get him through the rest of the day since he had a few tests to run with Travis in a couple hours.

“Have you gotten any hate?” Dallon asked as he sat at the table and ate leftover macaroni and cheese. Frank and Gerard had taken the girls to the park and Josh was helping Tyler pack for Tyler’s flight home the next day. 

Ryan frowned. “Hate for what?”

“For being with Brendon. Twitter and stuff. I’ve seen a lot of people saying horrible things about you since Brendon put up the video, which was totally stupid, by the way. He had a double chin the whole time and I’m pretty sure you farted.”

Ryan squinted, having no idea how to take that. Dallon smirked a little. “I’m kidding. I think it was sweet, though I also think Brendon should’ve waited for you to be awake and consent. Coming out is a big deal. We don’t know if your university knows about your sexuality or not, and he should’ve gotten your permission first.”

“He’s had it for a while,” Ryan defended. “I’d told him I was okay with him coming out whenever and however he wanted.”

Dallon shrugged. “I mean, sure. It’s your life.”

“How do you manage to sound disappointed and neutral simultaneously?” Ryan asked. “I really need to acquire that skill.”

Dallon smirked again. “So how will you handle the kid?” he asked. “Sometimes mothers push for joint custody, even force it, though I don’t know if she will. She might make Brendon take the kid on weekends.”

“Technically illegal,” Ryan said. “All she can really do is request a DNA test and make Brendon pay child support. Brendon could take it to court, but they’d rule in her favor if the DNA test was conclusive of him being the father, and that would be the only way to force him to pay. But they can’t force him to see the kid in any court of law system. She was the one who chose to keep the child and Brendon is not required to raise it directly.”

“Kinda funny how a kid can ruin a life without ever meaning to,” Dallon said.

“A kid can also give meaning to a life,” Ryan said. “It’s all dependent on the person. But Brendon doesn’t want to, nor does he have the emotional or mental capability to raise a child. The kid would be better off thinking daddy didn’t love it than being raised by a boy that doesn’t even realize cheating is cheating and hurts no matter the circumstance. Brendon has a lot left to learn. He can’t take on the responsibility of a kid. It’ll fuck everything up.”

“Brendon always told me you were smart,” Dallon commented. “Never really quite got that until now.”

Ryan flushed a little at learning that Brendon was praising him around others. Dallon arched a brow when he noticed Ryan’s reddened cheeks, but didn’t say anything, which was honestly kinda nice. It was cool to be around someone who knew when to hold their tongue.

“Are you willing to live alongside Brendon’s decision to pay child support?” Dallon asked. “It can be a bit hard for a spouse to see resources being given to an unwanted child. I’ve seen it actually tear families apart because spouses fight over mistakes they’re constantly reminded of.”

“I understand it has to be done,” Ryan said. “Brendon never loved her. That’s all I need to know.”

Dallon nodded and ate the last of his macaroni. “As long as you’re prepared for whatever shit storm there is guaranteed be. The fans are already pressing for Brendon to choose the kid over you. They know the girl better than they know you. Maybe you should build a bit of a social media presence so they can get to know you and stop being such dickwads.”

Ryan laughed. “I mean, I could get a few students to help me learn how to do that shit. But it never really seemed that important to me. I had other things to do with my time.”

“Well, I’m sure the fans would appreciate some media presence,” Dallon said. “Even if it’s a Facebook page you don’t update. They like being able to brag and better themselves compared to other fans according to who they follow and how long they’ve been around. It’s all petty, but it works.”

“You definitely sound way too bitter towards your fans,” Ryan said.

“Not the legitimate ones,” Dallon replied. “And there are thousands of legitimate ones. But the ones who use us to brag? Who use us to get ahead of others? Those aren’t fans, those are assholes.”

Ryan nodded.

“So are the ones who hate you,” Dallon continued. “And the ones that hate my wife because they want me and Brendon to fuck. The fans that put down the people the band loves are a bunch of assholes and definitely not legitimate fans. It should be about the music we create and the emotion we bring. Making it all about the people and not about the tunes was probably the most damaging thing to happen to the music industry. I mean, I’m not a Kanye West fan, but I would probably appreciate his music more if he wasn’t such a fucking narcissist.” 

Ryan knew he had a point. “Kinda like with politics,” he agreed. “If we just took the showmanship out of it all, we’d be a lot better off. Like, just have the candidates tell their plans to someone else who writes everything down and send that out in a newsletter. Don’t broadcast the debates because people make it about the face behind the policy and not the policy itself. We’re fucked by our obsession with the beautiful people. We elect celebrities and not actual politicians with realistic standards and ideas.”

“Why not go to radio broadcasts?” Dallon asked.

“Because then they could hire great writers,” Ryan explained. “Just because someone knows how to write a speech doesn’t mean they’re competent enough to be a high profile politician.”

“Are you talking about anyone in particular?”

Ryan snorted. “Any president we’ve had in the last fucking forever, really. Any politician. Since the first broadcasted presidential election, things haven’t been so great and we’ve been extremely divided. But fuck, who am I to talk? I just vote for whoever pisses me off the least.”

Dallon chuckled and sat back in the chair. “… You’re good for Brendon,” he said. Ryan straightened in his stance at the makeshift compliment. “You’re down to earth and truthful. Pretty affectionate and you’re not afraid to say something. You aren’t afraid to put Brendon in his place when he fucks up, but you also seem like you're able to accept responsibility when you fuck up on your own.” Dallon shrugged. “You’re just a real good guy. And that’s important when it comes to Brendon. Though I’m sure you know that better than I do.”

“It’s been a long road,” was all Ryan wanted to say about that. He wasn’t going to badmouth Brendon’s development in front of one of Brendon’s friends. He usually didn’t like to badmouth Brendon in front of anyone.

“Good luck with the kid,” Dallon said. “I gotta take Brendon to the studio now. We’ve got to get some new shit recorded.” Dallon grinned as he stood and waved. “It was honestly really nice to meet you. You’re a good dude. He’ll meet you at Travis’s when we’re done.”

Ryan put Dallon’s dishes away and smiled, secretly overjoyed that Brendon’s friend liked him.

. . .

“Thanks for bringing Brendon,” Travis said. “Finally, I can fucking get some conclusive results.”

. . .

Brendon got a call from the girl about two months later, and went pale. He stood abruptly and left, whispering something to Gerard, who had nodded solemnly and let Brendon go. Ryan frowned from the kitchen table where he was eating his breakfast before classes and tried not to get too obnoxiously curious. He lasted a few seconds after Brendon had left the house, forgetting a goodbye kiss, even.

“What was that?” he demanded. “Is he okay? What the fuck, Gee?”

“You’re know soon,” was all Gerard had said.

Ryan scowled and went to work, grumpy as ever loving fuck, and Jon just kinda laughed at him.

. . .

“You’re paranoid,” Kellin told Ryan nonchalantly as he joined Jon and Ryan for lunch before going to his classes. “Like, Brendon’s not dumb. Too dumb. He’s not gonna do anything stupid again.”

“God, I hope you’re right,” was all Ryan said.

. . .

During the last period of Ryan’s day, he got a phone call from Brendon.

Ryan had been telling every class that day there was a chance he could get a very important phone call and have to step out, but he was still a little grateful when Brendon called in the last ten minutes of class. Ryan dismissed everyone early and answered. 

“Fuck, baby, are you okay?” he asked, smiling shakily. He didn’t want to say he was expecting bad news, but he definitely didn’t believe bad news wasn’t a possibility. “You just left, baby, no explanation. Gee’s an ass and wouldn’t say anything. I’ve been worried sick.”

Ryan thought he heard Brendon sniffle softly over the phone and Ryan’s blood ran cold. “… Baby?”

 _“Sh-she had the baby,”_ Brendon choked out. 

Ryan’s heart sunk. “… It’s okay, baby. I’m not upset with you anymore.”

_“Ryan… she’s black.”_

Ryan squinted uselessly, figuring he wasn’t hearing Brendon correctly. “She’s back? Back where? Is the girl back in your life?” Ryan bristled in possessive anger. “She can’t have you, Brendon. Not to be controlling or anything, but you’re my fucking soulmate. She can’t have you.”

 _“No, no, Ryan, the baby is black,”_ and Ryan realized Brendon was laughing. _“I-I don’t know how it happened!”_

“Is the mother black?” Ryan asked even though he’d seen the picture of Brendon with the girl.

_“She’s Latino, Ryan.”_

Ryan stared straight ahead and tried to wrap his mind around this. “… She’s not your kid?”

 _“She’s not my kid,”_ Brendon affirmed. _“I-I asked if she knew who the real father was. I think she knows, Ry. I think it’s not my fault.”_ Brendon let out this soft noise and he sounded please. _“We’re free, Ry. Free to be you and me.”_

“Is the mother gonna be okay?” Ryan asked.

 _“Uh, I dunno. I was gonna ask if she still wanted help.”_ Ryan smiled a bit.

“Good boy,” he praised. “Do the right thing, even if she has been in the wrong all along.”

 _“I’ll be home in an hour or so,”_ Brendon said. _“Love you, Ryan.”_

“Love you.”

. . .

 

Josh was hanging around Ryan and Brendon’s room when Ryan got home. Brendon was standing with Josh, smiling and talking animatedly while Josh watched Brendon with slight disinterest, his attention peaking when Ryan came into view. Ryan’s heart ached for how much pain Josh must have been in. How much pain Josh still was in.

“Ryan!” Brendon greeted excitedly with a wide smile. “I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to talk to both of you.” Josh suddenly looked very nervous and Ryan frowned, but didn’t say anything. He knew Brendon could sometimes have good ideas. “So, so, Ry? You told me something Josh told you. About your last kiss being something he wished he’d given more attention to.” Ryan’s eyes went wide. He’d been wrong. Brendon had shitty ideas. Very, very shitty ideas. God, Ryan had no idea why he’d ever even considered listening to Brendon’s ideas. “You two should kiss,” Brendon said, barreling on like he wasn’t probably eviscerating Josh from the inside out. Ryan was scared to look to Josh and see his reaction, but he knew he had to, so he did.

… Josh didn’t look that bad.

“Thank you, Brendon,” Josh said, actually wearing a small smile, which was shocking. “But I don’t really need that.”

Brendon frowned. “What? But Ryan’s kisses are amazing.”

“I know they are.” Josh chuckled a little, glancing to Ryan. Ryan flushed a little and wished he wasn’t such a shitty person that hurt his friends without even trying. “Ryan gives amazing kisses. But he’s with you and I don’t want to put him on any sort of spot. Ryan’s got some rigid morals, B, and you know that. I’m doing better, too. Tyler’s gone, but it’s given me time to think.” Josh was still looking at Ryan, even though he was verbally addressing Brendon. “I’m getting better. I don’t need that from him.”

Ryan breathed shakily. “I’m sorry, Josh.”

Josh shook his head. “Don’t be. You can’t help who you love. And you can’t help who you don’t love.”

Ryan took in a shaky breath. “Do you mean it?” he asked. “That you’re better?”

Josh nodded and clapped a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “I’m getting there.” He then nodded to Brendon. “Thanks for the offer. I’m sure you’d rather have Ry all to yourself, though. Don’t fuck up again.” Josh bid them goodnight with a nod to Brendon and a tight hug for Ryan. Ryan watched Josh go with an ounce of regret, but mostly optimism. Josh was honestly getting better, and god, while that wasn’t perfect, it was a lot more than Ryan could have hoped for within the fucking year alone. 

. . .

“Dude, your brain,” Travis laughed, shaking his head as he looked at the screen. He’d called Ryan and Brendon back to look over the results from their tests almost two months ago. Ryan had been a little shocked that it had taken Travis so long to analyze the results or whatever the hell he wanted to do. “Crazy thing— that part of your brain that was lighting up when you were emotionally connected to Brendon, but died when he cheated? Fucking flared to life again.”

“Isn’t that typical of all soulmate relationships?” Ryan asked.

“No fucking way. No other soulmate connection turns the lights on upstairs like yours does. And when Brendon came in for his test that last month, when you bought him? He lit up too. But it’s only you two. Only you and Brendon have brains that are physically connected in an observable way. Do you know what this means?”

Ryan shook his head.

Travis’s eyes were bright with passion. “You guys are definable proof of the existence of soulmates and soulmate dreaming,” Travis said. “We’ve only ever accepted the existence of soulmates because literally everyone has a dream. Kinda like how we knew space was a thing because math said so. But you two? You’re the first photograph of the fucking galaxy.” He looked to Ryan from his computer screen. “We’ve been looking for you two for generations.”

Brendon looked between Ryan and Travis with awe. “Are we that important?”

“You’re proof the proof we need of soulmates existing,” Travis repeated. 

“Does that matter?”

Travis smiled softly. “Think about it, dude. There are probably thousands of people out there in uneducated countries that think the person they’re dreaming with isn’t real. Tons of religions preach against soulmates, attempting to debunk the existence and disprove it. Assholes say soulmate dreams are fake and only symptom disorders. And some kids just need to know it’s fucking real. Some proof to keep them going. This?” Travis pointed at the screen. “This right here? This is how they know it’s real.”

“It’s colors in a brain scan lighting up,” Ryan said, not wanting to be a skeptic while still needing to show he had some doubts.

“Then let’s do this,” Travis said, pulling a heart monitor out of the closet. At first, Ryan thought that was weird until Travis pulled out another. Ryan peeked inside the closet and saw eight fucking heart monitors. Travis wheeled them closer to Ryan and Brendon. “Shirts off,” he said, getting the gel onto the sensory pad things that Ryan couldn’t fucking name. He was a metaphysical brain doctor, not a physical doctor. He didn’t know any of this equipment.

“It’s cold!” Brendon giggled as Travis stuck the pad to Brendon’s chest. Ryan just jumped a little as Travis did the same to him soon after, but kept his expression schooled. He was cool as a fucking coconut, thank you very much. Travis hooked up a couple fucking thousand wires and plugged in the monitors and when Ryan heard the sound of his heartbeat, everything was kinda normal, until he heard Brendon’s heart in exact syncopation with his own.

“Woah,” Brendon said, eyes going wide and his heart speeding up. Ryan’s heart sped up with him, and fuck. They were the same. They were connected down to their very fucking heartbeats.

“This,” Travis said, pointing to the heart monitor screens, “and that,” he said, pointing to the pictures of Ryan and Brendon’s brains, “are gonna give a lot of people a reason to believe in true, intrinsic, existential love. Because a lot of people don’t bother searching for their soulmates out of an unwillingness to give in to false hope. You guys will be able to eradicate at least some of that fear of risk.”

“Are we gonna help people?” Brendon asked with a wide, hopeful smile. “Ryan?”

Ryan just took Brendon’s face in his hands and kissed him hard. He didn’t care who they helped, he just felt complete now that he finally knew Brendon was just as existentially connected and dependent on Ryan as Ryan was on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have another multi-chaptered story coming up with relationships including Gerard/Frank, Ryan/Josh, Mikey/Ray, and Pete/Patrick and i think it's gonna be hella fun with demons and shit and i'm gonna have a blast so check that out if you want and no hard feelings if you don't ~
> 
> thanks again for reading :)

**Author's Note:**

> www.wellthisisprettyrisque.tumblr.com


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